


The Art of War

by Adelphia_AM



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Disney Princesses, Mulan (1998)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Family Drama, Friendship, Military, Personal Growth, Story Retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adelphia_AM/pseuds/Adelphia_AM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of war, a young Lieutenant is faced with duties he cannot back down from, and an adventure that will change his life – and the fate of China – forever. <br/>Follow the story of Li Shang through his perspective of the events of "Mulan."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laying Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit home reminds Li Shang what it is he fights for – and what's at risk if he fails

_The art of war is of vital importance to the State._

_It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry which can on no account be neglected._

**Chapter 1: Laying Plans**

Li Shang leaned into the giant red pillar framing the doors of the cavernous hall, tapping his foot as he waited.

His eyes traced the inscriptions along the edge of the ceiling, quietly but intently mouthing the ancient proverbs as a gaggle of twittering girls passed through the dormitory entryway.

"… and in uniform too.." An excited squeak echoed amongst the laughter in the halls.

Feeling the heat rise in his cheeks, he clenched his jaw and concentrated on deciphering the golden scribble up above. At the very least, the young lieutenant was intent on _seeming_ engrossed in anything that would allow him to avoid the giggling smiles the young ladies shot his way.

The attention made Shang all the more anxious for his little sister to appear, and for the both of them to leave Li Qingzhao, his younger sister, had completed her second year studying the arts, history and skills necessary to interact as a member of elite society. With any luck, his parents hoped, she would soon sit the palatial examinations and begin a life serving and entertaining the Imperial family – or at the very least Qing would have yet another accolade to secure a respectful husband.

Shang's resolve hardened as yet another pack of ladies filed through the hall. The army officer's stern facade fell, though, as he spied a familiar smile towards the back of the pack. Standing up straight, Shang returned the grin, stepping forward as the willowy young woman began to rush towards him.

"Oh, gēge, I've missed you!" the girl said as she dropped the bags she was carrying, and hugged her elder brother.

"I've missed you too, Qing," Shang chuckled as he embraced his teenage sister.

As the siblings broke apart from their embrace, Shang looked down at the two small bags at her feet.

"Is that all you're bringing?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes," Qing responded cautiously as she picked the sacks up. "Why do you ask? I thought I was only coming home for a few days." Her eyes lit up hopefully "Are you and father staying longer?"

"No," he shook his head. "Here, let me take this," Shang sighed as he grabbed the larger of his sister's two bags. "I just thought, with as long as I was waiting, that you would have more, that's all."

A flush spread over the teen's face, as they stepped out the front doors.

Shang glanced sideways at his little sister, frowning. "You know, Qing," he said, eyebrows furrowed with concern. "I'm not sure how life works here in the capitol, but, if it's anything like the army, it would be good, little sister, to, uh, to be more timely."

"I know, Shang, I know," she sighed as her shoulders slumped. "It's just, I had been working on this assignment, and the masters here all told me I could do better, but I've been stuck, and then it just hit me as I was packing so, you see, I had to write it down!" Quingzhao glanced back over her shoulder as she caught her breath. Shang met her harried defense with a raised eyebrow.

Flicking back her sleeves, she held up a blackened wrist. "See! I didn't even have time to wash the ink off my hands! "

Shang's stern mask broke as he pushed open the stable doors. "Calm down, Qing," he said as he dropped the bag onto the dirt floor and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's alright. I'm not upset at you. In any case, we were going to have a long day ahead of us- regardless of how much of a slowpoke my little sister is" He smirked. "Just, you shouldn't do this with father, and you can't do this with your masters. It's dishonorable."

Qing's mouth twisted into a reluctant grin while she secured her bags to the sides of her saddle. "Yeah, yeah. I know that. You're just getting special treatment, my most honorable brother."

Shang rolled his eyes as he mounted his stallion. "Come on, let's go home."

"Speaking of which, do you think Father will be home when we get back, Shang?"

He shrugged.

"We'll see."

* * *

Shang and Qing sat on a creek bank, inhaling the spring's fresh breeze and nibbling on dumplings Shang had bought before they left the Imperial City. They had been riding all morning and into the early afternoon, and the horses needed to rest and drink before they completed the last leg of their journey home. The steady stillness of the journey had given both siblings ample opportunity to reflect upon the last several months away from family, and to simply enjoy the quiet comfort of each other's company.

Although separated by more than five years, Shang had always felt closest to his younger sister. As young children, she would happily sit at her older brother's feet as he read legends from the scrolls tucked away in the family library or retold the dramatic tales of their father's battles and campaigns.

Even when he was sent away to the academy nearly 10 years ago, Shang was still able to stay in contact with Qing through his family's visits to the academy or trips to Wu Zhong Camp near the mountains to visit father.

After Qing herself came to the capitol for her studies, the siblings' relationship grew from one of childish folly to something of substance: his little sister wrote frequently asking for advice in her studies, or practical counsel in navigating the political landscape of the Imperial City.

In return, Shang was able to describe the many regions he was able to visit during his training, and of the different people and customs and practices found throughout the Middle Kingdom. He was even able to see her for tea every few months, or at least whenever he passed through Chang'an for orders or officers' exams.

Thinking about it, Shang was glad he was able to be present for these past two years. Since her last time home, Qing had grown from an awkward child to a poised and respectful 16-year old. It was a change in his favorite sibling that had happened so gradually and one that had been barely noticed with so much contact, yet was undeniable: she was now a woman, and, at that, a woman nearly old enough to see the Matchmaker.

Despite the little glimpses into one another's lives these few years, getting to spend as much uninterrupted time together –or even with any member of their family– was a rare treat Shang enjoyed.

 

 

Generally, mother and as many of the four Li siblings as could make it tried to come home for the holidays, but even that was impossible at times; this year Shang, Qing and father were not even able to make it home for the Reunion Dinner or any of the New Year holidays. To make up for the missed time, mother had planned a special family celebration for the Quingming Festival – Ancestor's Day – in between Shang and father's rotations between outposts.

Almost as exciting as getting to spend the holiday with family was the news from father when they all returned home. After completing his latest command at the edges of the realm, Shang had been reassigned into the Strategic Command Unit, a prestigious regiment known for minting many skilled commanders and strategists including the fabled Fa Zhou. It was lead by one of its alumni- none other than General Li Dao. Shang would receive his first assignment from his father shortly, indeed in a few hours.

* * *

Just as the first hints of the golden sunset started to glow in the spring sky, the pair arrived at the gates of their childhood home.

Striding from the main building, across the large, u-shaped courtyard, was a tall but dainty figure, with a lanky boy clutching a scroll struggling to keep up on her heels.

The two siblings dismounted, both grinning, and embraced their mother after many months apart.

"Oh I have missed both of you so," Li Wen said looking at them. "Shang, my son, you look more like your father every time I see you," she said, fondly adjusting his cape. "I take it your mission on the border went well?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, mother," Shang replied, bowing his head slightly. "It was interesting to see the wall. Very interesting. But it was uneventful, boring actually" he said, soothingly. "I'm home in one piece, Mother" he laughed.

"And speaking of being in one piece," he continued, lightly shoving the lanky youth next to his mother, "I see you're holding up well, Zhen. No new episodes this month?"

"I'm fine, I'm not going to break" the boy huffed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh good. Then you don't mind if I do this!" Shang yanked the youth into a bear hug, ruffling Zhen's hair with gusto as the younger Li struggled to escape.

It was clear that over the past year, 12-year-old Zhen had sprouted up like a bamboo shoot, his body tall, lean and supple. It was also immediately clear to Shang that his little brother was growing restless: with his illness barring his entrance to the academy, brains were the only weapon he could yield.

Yet, because of his frail health, mother was reluctant to send Zhen to study in the Imperial City, instead requesting tutors to come to the Li estate. The lack of competition and exposure to his peers didn't do Zhen any favors, Shang thought.

The boy used his intellect as a cudgel rather than a delicate sword, constantly trying to prove himself to his tutors and parents instead of finding balance, wisdom and mastery of his subjects. Not to say that the kid wasn't clever: at the age of 13, Zhen possessed knowledge in a broad array subjects that rivaled most of Shang's peers, let alone fellow students. Simply put, Zhen was brilliant- even compared against the rest of the Li children- and could be one of the great minds of the realm, but only if Zhen was challenged to let go of his arrogance. Shang made a mental note to spend time and talk with his brother, and see if there was any way he could help the boy's obvious frustration.

"Son, you had another attack last time you visited the alchemist's studio."

"Mother! I'm fine! You know I've had worse!" the teen as he wrested himself free from Shang's grip. "And now all I can do is stay home and read the scrolls and books I've _already_ read and work with elements I _already_ know" he grumbled moodily.

Li Wen cut a cautionary glare towards the boy and he gave a quick nod of contrition. "Son, I told you we'll talk to your father when he gets home," their mother warned.

"Speaking of Father," Qing softly interrupted, "do you know when he will get home?"

"Well, he should have arrived at your sister's house last night, and I believe that they should both be here by sundown." Their mother glanced up at the sky, as the orange fingers of the clouds reached away from the horizon.

"Why don't you two put the horses up and unpack your bags, and we'll prepare for the ceremony?"

They nodded and Shang grabbed his bags. He crossed the courtyard towards the east wing of the house, where his old room lay. The desk and scrolls lay in his room lay slightly disheveled, untouched from his last visit home. Shang smiled – he was home at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gēge: Affectionate term for "big brother."
> 
> Historical Note: Li Qingzhao was one of the most celebrated female Chinese poets, already well-known for her writing before she was married. (Although, in real life, the real father of Li Qingzhao was not a military man, but a scholar.)


	2. Waging War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Li Shang waits for his father as his family celebrates together. 
> 
> The holiday dinner does not go as expected.

_There is no instance of having benefited from prolonged warfare._

**Chapter 2: Waging War**

Shang, Lady Li and the younger Li siblings waited as the afternoon drifted into twilight and then into darkness until a knock came at the estate gates. Together, the four of them hurried to greet the guests as servants pulled back the heavy doors.

A horse stepped through the gates, but Li Dao was no where to be seen. Instead, the oldest Li child, their sister Jiao, had come alone.

"Where's father?" Zhen asked.

"I don't know," Jiao responded. She hung her head. "He never came- Jin He told me to leave home and get here before it got too dark."

The Li family was silent and looked at one another. No one had to voice what they all were wondering – _what could have happened?_

"Well, my daughter," mother started, "would you like to clean up before the ceremony?" Jiao bowed, murmurring "yes, please," and the two women hurried off to the guest wing.

Shang watched them go with a knotted feeling in his stomach. He wasn't unhappy to see his older sister, not exactly, but he was not looking forward to whatever arguments inevitably lay ahead.

The oldest Li siblings were close, maybe too much so. Growing up less than a year apart, they shared almost everything until Shang was sent away to the academy. While they did respect one another and shared a fraternal love for one another somewhere deep in their hearts, Jiao and Shang seemed to always be locked in a state of constant bickering.

Jiao had a knack for understanding status and politics: who was acting the most honorable, how one mastered their studies or arts or duties, what they had accomplished. The skill now served her well as the wife of a bureaucrat, but it also gave her the unique ability to probe into any of Shang's insecurities – even those he didn't even know existed.

Even though his sister often meant her critiques to be helpful, Shang's obvious distaste for the political games and posturing of the world Jiao lived in generally did little to aid the two in keeping the peace. Nine times out of ten, her concerns seemed so inane to Shang, but his dismissal of them as such did not dampen her resolve. Instead, Jiao was generally energized by her younger brother's stubbornness, equally determined to make him see the error in his ways.

Their game was exhausting. Worse than even the most rigorous of training drills.

Minutes later, mother and Jiao rejoined the other siblings in front of the family temple and they began the praises and prayers to the ancestors that were part of the Qingming Festival ritual.

The young man looked down at all the tablets of the Li ancestors- names of men and women reaching back centuries, telling stories of lives of virtue and the honors they had brought to the Li family. Noted on more than a few of these tablets were the honors bestowed on the great warriors who came before him.

While well-off, the Li family were not directly related to the royal families. Their status was earned, not granted from Heaven. Yet, enough of their family had behaved so honorably for so many generations that the thought of not living up to the family expectations could not be imagined.

Shang prayed to the many great ancestors there on this feast day that they would help him to maintain their good name.

* * *

After the prayers and songs had concluded, the family sat down to dinner, an awkward space remaining empty at the table.

Conversation floated around, Jiao commenting on how large her son, Jin Mi, was growing, Qing and Zhen trading anecdotes from the history chronicles they were assigned, Shang describing in full detail the jade mountains and rainbow-colored hills he passed on his travels this past assignment.

"Qingzhao, dear," Mother broke a pause in the conversation, between courses. "You're sixteen now."

"Yes…?" the girl asked.

"Well, I think it's time we start thinking about when you will see the matchmaker."

"Motherrrrrr" she groaned.

"Show respect," the older woman sternly warned. Qing bowed her head.

"Mother, if I may?" the girl asked after a moment. Lady Li nodded. "I have exams coming at the end of the sixth month. I can't come home for that, and I can't stay here more than a few days, not unless the meeting's already scheduled."

"No, It's not, but you must think of it." The elder woman sighed. "Can you come home after your exams for the Night of the Sevens?"

"I think so."

"Then let's make a meeting then. If no match is found this summer, you can return to the palace until the New Year."

"Yes, mother," Qing nodded.

"Until then, finish your studies. Such lessons helped Jiao prepare for her meeting, and have been helpful, in raising children, yes?"

"Yes, Mother, they have been," Jiao responded. "I can teach Mi for several more years without tutors."

"Then, that's settled," Mother stood up from the table. "I will go bring food offerings to the temple, and share bounty with the spirits."

An awkward lull came over the table. Shang wondered how long mother would be gone, and if that was all she would be praying for.

"So, little brother, with Qing waiting when can we expect a wedding from you?" Jiao said, turning her attention to Shang.

"No plans." He shrugged. "Why does it matter?"

"Well," she smirked, "you wouldn't want people mistaking that peach fuzz above your lip as a sign that you're ripe for the taking. Or that my little peach has indeed already been bitten."

Shang froze in shock at his sister's audacity. Zhen instantly became intrigued by what was floating in his soup bowl. Meanwhile, Shang barely heard his Qing hiss "Jiao," under her breath as he felt the heat rising on his neck.

"What?" Jiao asked innocently. "All I'm trying to say is that people talk, little brother, and they notice things."

"Like what," he growled, his jaw set in defiance.

"Like how you don't go out for entertainment with the other men in your regiment. Or that you have yet to even consider any potential match-"

"I've been in the academy up until last year!" he protested. "I've been busy training and studying and, I don't know, honoring this family, to even _think_ of anything else."

"Exactly. Generally that's all most men _can_ think of."

"Using entertainment like that is…" He balled his fists trying to find the words. "Is dishonorable- shows a lack of discipline, character." Shang couldn't believe this conversation was happening, and with his sister, no less. "I," he huffed in frustration. "You know Father raised us– or at least _me_ – better than that."

Jiao's face stiffened at the thinly veiled insult, while the two youngest siblings shared a dark glance across the table.

"I'll get married. But my duty to the emperor comes first."

"Yeah, to whom?"

"I…" he started. "I'll find her. I haven't found the right match"

"All I'm saying, little brother, is that you need to keep the family honor. Get married, and do what you will- or won't. All's fair in love and war, but it'd be a shame for the oldest Li son to let the family name down."

A cold pit opened in his stomach as Shang felt the heat drain from his face. He exhaled.

"My duty to this family and to the Middle Kingdom is different than yours." he said after a moment.

Jiao's only response was the slight twitching of her into a smirk as she sipped her tea.

 

 

In the back of his mind, Shang cursed himself for letting her barbs provoke such a response: marriage was a legitimate concern. Yet something about the prying dug too far into his heart, and he pressed on to push back her advance.

"So, what you're saying is that since I am exercising the discipline and dedication expected of an officer in the Chinese army and man of this family, people think I'm not one of the boys?" Shang asked incredulously. Shang took a breath, trying to calm his voice and nerves.

"Jiao, I doubt this is a rampant topic of conversation," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "I've heard _nothing_ about this in camp. Nothing. Half of my class doesn't even have a match. I would hope that it doesn't become the topic of catty conversation in your tea circles."

Fabrication or truth, this sort of gossip – of neglecting one's duty to his family, of taking battlefield comforts and refusing to leave them there – could be disastrous to a new career. Competency _and_ virtue were both needed to model and advance in the Emperor's service. A leader must be able to balance private and public duties and desires.

"I didn't say they didn't think you were manly, only that people talk." She shrugged. "It is possible to be too straight-laced, Shang…"

"That's enough." The lieutenant stood up, his voice hard. "Listen. This is over. I'm twenty-two. I've been at the Wall for six months. I may have time to find a wife, but I don't have time to put my career, to put my duties on hold to play your silly, conniving games or do what you have to do to bring honor to this family." He pointed angrily. "I have had enough."

"And I've heard enough." Their mother strode back in, hand massaging her eyes. Shang bowed quickly and sat back down as his mother did. "Why is it you two are simply incapable of behaving with one another like you do in court or with your peers or even with your little siblings!"

Jiao bowed her head in obedience. Shang was silent. "Your brother has performed his assignments with honor and discipline, and his duties are not the same as yours right now. If there is _any_ concern among the officers, I'm sure your father will address it as soon as he is home."

"Secondly, creating or spreading rumors will do more to dishonor this family than your younger brother's inability to find a bride yet. I won't hear such gossip from anyone- even you, daughter."

"Lastly, you are married now, Jiao. You have your own children's futures and marriages to plan- let me worry about your brothers and sister." The oldest sister pursed her lips, staring into her tea. "You are a guest now in this house: I will not have you come here only to insult your brother."

"Yes, mama" the young woman said quietly. "I understand."

"Son," she said, turning to Shang. "Be calm and control your anger. We will talk when your father arrives." Shang nodded dourly, not missing the exasperated tone in her voice. "But I wish you would consider more carefully the matches your father and I have sent you."

The young man closed his eyes, resisting the urge to roll them. "Mothe–"

His mother held up a hand. "You are still young and you have more pressing duties to the Emperor," she continued, "but you must take marriage more seriously."

"Yes, mother."

"Take advice from an army wife: later advancement depends on politics and social standing, and your wife is an important part of that balance." She started to smile. "And she must understand this life and be willing to sacrifice her husband and even her children for the Middle Kingdom," mother said raising a loving hand to her eldest son's chin.

"Yes mother. I understand," he said, bowing his head. "There just hasn't been anyone who's quite…" he paused, trying to think of the right word. _Competent? Trustworthy? Clever? Moderately interesting?_ _Deeper than a teacup?_ "Who I could see as an honorable match."

Shang looked at his mother who gazed back at him with a pitiful smile. She patted her eldest son's shoulder.

"Yeaaaah," Zhen quipped, piping in before the conversation became tense yet again, "may we be excused until Father gets back?"

Shang nodded, and Qing and Zhen scuttled quickly across the courtyard towards the tea room. "Mother," the young man rubbed his eyes with an exhausted sigh, "I'm _know_ I need to do what I can do for our family, but right now what I need to do is work. Exams are coming next winter. I need to study. I need experience. The last thing I need are distractions."

"You do realize I know people. I have friends. They have sisters." In her silence, Shang had nearly forgotten about his sister. "I could help mother and father to arrange something."

"Fine." He laced his fingers behind his head and shrugged. "If this is something everyone wants and you want to set it up, I'll consider. So long," he nodded earnestly, "as she's not one of those preening shrews the capitol's full of. I can't put up with any more idiots from that city, much less marry one. Alright?"

Jiao slid a sly smile towards Shang. "Oh don't worry little brother." She pinched his cheek while he tried to wriggle away. "There's bound to be one flower precious enough for our brave warrior."

* * *

Father never showed as the moon rose higher into the night sky. Eventually, after the tea grew cold and the rice dry, Mother dismissed the servants and the house headed to bed.

Hours later, in the stillness of the night, Shang sat up with a jolt. The door to his room had burst open. The young man rubbed his eyes as he was yanked back from the comfortable calm of sleep. In the doorway, barely discernible from the ink-black sky stood a dark figure, his voice urgent and firm.

"Son, be prepared to leave by dawn. I've just received word from the wall: We've been invaded."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I had way too much fun with the Li family when I first started (the first draft was actually more of a sequel focusing on the family, before it morphed into this.) When going back to edit, however, this chapter- and some of the characteristics changed the most.
> 
> Unfortunately, I think this is the last we'll see of the siblings themselves in the story, and take them and their presentation with a grain of salt – we're still only seeing them through Shang's eyes. Despite the ribbing and complaining, they do love one another.  
> With all of them, I think what was most interesting for me in writing was to consider 1) the complicated, confusing and sometimes darn combative relationships siblings can have, even if they do love one another 2) the pressures placed on children of status, particularly women and 3) how other women besides Mulan may have reacted to the constraints placed on them – particularly those placed on young women. Success and finding yourself can look like a lot of different things, especially in tight confines.


	3. Attack by Stratagem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Li Shang is called on his first mission with his father

_If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle._

**Chapter 3: Attack by Stratagem**

It was a hard and swift ride back to the capitol, and the Li men barely stopped the whole morning. Long before the sun reached its high point in the sky, Shang sat in the courtyard outside of the Imperial Hall, waiting for his first mission with his father.

His father. The General- not just a general, but the Commander General, answerable directly to the Emperor, the Son of Heaven.

For the past twelve years, Shang and his siblings had barely seen their father. Yet, all their successes in school, society, and the military had been to impress him, the ancestors and the Li family name. Now Shang had an opportunity few men in the Imperial Army could merit- to train under his father and learn from the general and from the other officers in the unit.

The doors opened, and General Li marched down the steps, clutching a scroll. Reflexively, Shang stood up at attention.

"Li Shang," the General nodded his head. "I need you to report to Wu Zhong camp. The other troops and some of the officers of your division will be reporting there by the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. May I ask what's happened?"

"The Huns have crossed the wall, just beyond the Qianling. It's a sizable force, but they are undisciplined."

General Li slipped the scroll in a side sling. "We will defeat them, but the other generals here and I need time to assess the size of their army and decide how many of our standing forces we are diverting to the campaign."

Shang nodded.

"We are assembling troops at Wu Zhong," the general declared. "By the morning after tomorrow I will brief you on the attack strategy."

"Yes sir." Shang bowed. "I'll see you in two days, then, sir."

The general bowed his head. "Dismissed, lieutenant."

 

 

* * *

The trip south took the rest of the day and until noon the day after, and the long trip made Shang was immensely glad for the benefits given to their family as part of his father's duties. After nearly three days of hard riding, Shang had a newfound appreciation for the team of Imperial horses the Emperor had on loan to the Li family: a family or even a work horse would be hard pressed to keep up with this pace.

These horses, though, seemed to do just fine, trained for battle and conditioned for such long treks. Shang only had to worry about himself and his fellow soldiers' readiness.

Approaching a growing settlement of what looked to be at least one hundred tents, Shang dismounted.

 _This is exciting_ , Shang thought to himself. His first real war, his chance to finally put to test all he had learned and prepared for. _This is the kind of circumstance that makes men._

Still, a dark voice from the conversation the other night echoed in the back of his head. Shang had friends at the academy, who would be honest and let him know if someone was talking shit about Shang or anyone in the corps –if they didn't land a fist on the guy first.

The problem was, with his quick advance through the ranks and return to the academy's training grounds for advanced study, Shang outranked most of the men he truly trusted: a First Lieutenant now, he was their superior, an officer overseeing enlisted, a young man– seen as a boy – serving under professors and experienced generals. There hadn't been time yet to find someone who he could really trust to have his back.

Hopefully, the move to the Strategic Command unit would change that. At the very least, fighting through this war together should.

Shang scanned the faces of the men as he walked through camp, looking for anyone familiar.

From the looks of the uniforms, the men were mostly infantry veterans, probably called from the local provinces. While there were also several officers standing by, it looked like they were at least a handful of years older than Shang was.

This, Shang shrugged, probably should have been expected. Most of his peers had been called months ago to help protect citizens from the Vietnamese in the disputes over the southern border, or were out at sea helping to protect some of the merchant ships in the South Sea.

And in any case, Shang realized, he was rather young for a Command Unit assignment. If this war were somehow to continue, he would likely see others he knew as they were called back to help train and lead a full army with men from all of the nations' regions, but given his father's assessment yesterday, that was probably unlikely.

Then, near the next group of tents, Shang caught the back of a young captain's head- an officer he overlapped with at the academy. The guy was an older student – maybe four years older or so, if he remembered correctly, who had been responsible for Shang and his classmates during his first field exercises.

"... was done waiting so I just pulled those tentacles off my leg and threw the beast back into the sea!"

"You're kidding," Shang deadpanned. He cut through the awed crowd. "A squid just up and tried to swim off with you." He smirked and shook his head, as he clapped the man on the back. "Come on Hyung Li, that's a tall tale, even for you."

"Hey there, Li" the snaggletoothed officer laughed, clapping Shang heartily on the back. "Should have expected you'd be here for the party."

* * *

The buzz of huangjiu ran through camp that night, and even though everyone rolled out of their cots the next morning considerably more hung over, the palpable buzz of excitement had still not worn off. War was what made mere men into legends, and that hope and nervousness surged through the camp with a vibrant energy.

Most excited, it seemed, were Shang, Hyung-Li and the other men plucked for leadership positions.

The corps they were selected for would bring challenges and responsibilities, but with the first serious invasion since their fathers' generation had pushed back the Mongol raiders from the north, glory seemed surely ahead. Everyone wanted to honor their Emperor and families with bravery and valor on the battlefield- and maybe find their name inscribed in the history scrolls for generations to come. Or at the very least, they were sure to score a promotion and a raise with next winter's exams if they rode out of battle with a positive assessment.

The stories that came from within their new unit were already modern heroes: Chang Wao singlehandedly held back a skirmish on the western Wall for two nights until reinforcements arrived; Wei Jun partnered with local fishermen to create a militia blockade during a costal attack from the Japanese.

And of course, who could forget the now legendary Fa Zhou, a young major who, with no commanding officers available, divided his troops, pushed behind enemy lines, and surrounded the Khitan, changing the tide in the campaign?

Of course, the best war stories had an element of tragedy, and sadness overlay the end Fa Zhou's story. During the melee, the Mongolian chief delivered a debilitating slice to the young officer's leg, slicing nearly to the bone.

After it was clear he would survive, Fa Zhou was promoted immediately to commander and, at 28, became the youngest general in nearly a century, but the soldier never fully recovered. He retired less than two years later and faded completely from public life while his legendary persona took on a life of its own within the ranks – particularly at academy.

Even the injury, though, led to great things: not able to physically lead charges, Fa Zhou requested that the Chief General create the Strategic Command Unit itself and teach Fa Zhou and a handful of others the secrets of inventive military strategy and finish the war. Fa Zhou then lead the unit for his last year in the Army, taking the best young officers and creating a crew of military genius that ultimately overwhelmed the Mongols. Shang's own father was a proud graduate of this first corps.

It was a peek at this strategic genius that Shang was eager to absorb as he spied several figures on white horses with imperial banners crest the hill into the valley.

The General was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I wanted to show a bit of the army culture, and moreso, what officer life and duties might have looked like to Shang, as well as the difficult side and hidden price of success at an early age can be.
> 
> Historical note: The Khitan were nomadic people originally from Mongolia, who ruled Northern China as the Liao Dynasty during the 10-12 Centuries CE.
> 
> I also modeled the military ranks and protocol for the Middle Kingdom shown in the movie after a mix of modern UK, USA and Chinese protocols and styles


	4. Disposition of the Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Shang's arrival – and a new recruit – bring unexpected surprises

_To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands_

**Chapter 4: Disposition of the Army**

 

News of the general's arrival blazed through the camp like a forrest fire, Within minutes, the whole camp had stumbled and shoved one another out of their tents, standing at attention in their units to make their formal welcome. The young man stared straight ahead with the other members of the Command Unit as the General passed by on a sturdy, white imperial stallion, making his final steps before meeting the Imperial Counsel.

Shang didn't dare break attention or make eye contact, even if the general was his father – he knew his place and what his duty was in that moment; the meeting signified not only the Emperor's blessing on the campaign, but also the official start of training and military operations. Outside of battle there was perhaps no moment so symbolically critical in the whole of the war.

Shang watched his father and the official disappear behind the flap as thousands of shoulders dropped and knees bent at ease. He felt a familiar gnaw wrestle with his insides as his gaze lingered on the tent. Honestly – Shang thought to himself – he didn't know what he expected: they were at war now, against a foe who had somehow managed to breech their walls. The duty to the Emperor and to the Middle Kingdom had to come first – for both of them. That's what bound and inscribed their duty to one another. _Plus, we were able to travel to the Imperial City- something the other guys would kill for_ \- he consoled himself.

As he continued back to his unit's tents, a bound returning to his steps, Shang felt a sharp tug at the hem of his sleeve. Looking down, he saw a young page doubled over and heaving as he handed over a note in a familiar script. "Lieutenant Li Shang, you have a briefing to attend," the boy huffed out.

* * *

General nodded as Shang slipped into the tent, continuing on with his briefing for the Imperial Council, Chi Fu, as the officials reviewed the decisions of the generals' meeting.

General Li relayed the news that had been passed on from the wall, and the limited intelligence reports that had been able to make their way to the Capitol: The Hun troops - lead by Shan Yu- that had made it through the wall were a concerning threat, yet on the whole, manageable. A rural tribe, their resources were most likely limited to what they could raid from the mountain towns on the way to the Imperial City. Still, they had managed to breach the country's defenses, and the Emperor warned against underestimating the invading forces.

China would dedicate its best troops already stationed in the interior regions to stopping the attack, and would draft an entire regiment from the towns closest to the Imperial City as backup and relief. The forces stationed on the frontier and guarding key economic centers, along with the Capitol Guard, would not be dispatched- their posts were too essential, and might open the Middle Kingdom to more serious attacks, the General explained.

"The Huns have struck here, here, and here," the General said, slapping the map with a pointer. So far, only small border towns to the northwest had been destroyed. "I will take the main troops up to the Tung Shao Pass and stop Shan Yu before he destroys this village."

The pass, Shang observed, rubbing his chin, also appeared to be a critical choke point in the icy terrain to the north. If they could form a barricade there, the only move left for Shan Yu would be to retreat and go all the way around the mountain range. The 'invasion' would be over before it ever really began.

"Excellent strategy, sir!" the counsel squawked. "I do love surprises."

"You will stay and train the new recruits," the general said, addressing his son. Shang's chest swelled as his eyes widened in shock. Command of an unseasoned regiment? This was an honor- even above the strategy corps.

"When Chi Fu believes you're ready, you will join us ... Captain." The General presented the sword sitting next to him to his son. Shang bowed as a lightness radiated out from his gut throughout his body.

His attention turned to the tool in his hands while Chi Fu retorted. "Oh! This is an enormous responsibility, General! Perhaps a soldier with more experience?"

"Number one in his class, extensive knowledge of training techniques." Shang could feel his chest swell at his father's rare compliment. The general stroked his beard. "…an impressive military lineage ... I believe Li Shang will do an excellent job."

"Oh I will!" Shang smiled. "I won't let you down! This is…" he looked at the hilt- carved gold. Leather bound. Newly made. And the _balance._ His sword was good but _this-_ this this was an honor. An opportunity. Shang took a breath and bowed his head. "I mean... Yes sir."

"Very good, then." They got up. "We'll toast China's victory at the Imperial City. I'll expect a full report in three weeks."

"And believe me, I won't leave anything out." The counsel followed the General out of the tent.

"Captain Li Shang. Leader of China's finest troops." Shang couldn't help but laugh as he tested the name out. "No, the greatest troops of all time," he gestured, sweeping back the tent flaps.

His smile melted away almost immediately into concern. As he stepped out, he saw the commissioned soldiers standing again at attention; their disciplined forms, however framed the scene before them: in the middle of the camp lay a flailing mess of new recruits rice flying everywhere, a slew of men heaped together, with men's wriggling arms and legs poking out in all directions. These were _his_ troops.

One of the men stood at attention, saluting the General - briefly- before falling down to the ground. Shang raised an eyebrow at his father, but the General barely acknowledged the chaos before them- save for the small smile his son couldn't help but notice at his lips.

"Most impressive," Chi Fu deadpanned.

Shang had to admit the scribe was right- it was impressive. Less than five minutes in command and already the recruits were entangled in an all-out brawl. However, his father seemed to be less than fully impressed as he simply stepped over the slumpped bodies on his way out.

The General mounted his horse, joining the other officers and seasoned infantry. "Good luck, Captain!," he shouted before jabbing his horse. "Hiyah!" The general shouted and Shang watched as the unit took off over the hills.

"Good luck ... Father."

"Day one." He heard Chi Fu bray behind him. _Great._

Shang glanced quickly at the shadows being cast by the tents; there wasn't enough time to start any exercises today, never mind start training _and_ deal with this mess. What there was time to do was at least try to stop the chaos at its source.

"Soldiers!" he barked.

The crowd of men separated, leaving a small boy huddled on the ground in the clear.

" _HE_ started it!" they shouted, pointing at the kid.

"I don't need anyone causing trouble in my camp," Shang barked down as on the shaking mass beneath him got up and dusted himself off.

"Sorry" ... the kid squeaked before beginning to boast in a deep voice.. "I mean, sorry you had to say that." The kid punched him. "But you know what it is when you get those manly urges ... just gotta KILL something." The kid punched his own hand as he rattled on "Fix things ... a cook outdoors …" he started mumbling.

There was no time for this nonsense. "What's your name?" the captain probed.

"Uh…um…uh..." the boy shifted.

"Your commanding officer just asked you a question!" squawked Chi Fu.

"I've got a name ... and it's a boy's name, too." The boy flung his head towards a thin man sporting a black eye wobbling in the crowd. "His name is Ling."

"I didn't ask for HIS name, I asked for yours!"

"Ah-chu!"

Really? "AH-CHU?!"

"Mushu …" the kid murmured.

"MUSHU?" Shang's scowl hardened from mere disappointment to anger: this was enough.

"No."

"Then WHAT IS IT?!"

"It's Ping."

"Ping."

Ping. Shang could feel his eyebrows pop up in surprise. That was his _actual_ name? Oh good gods and ancestors…

"Yes. My name is Ping."

Exasperated, he let out a sigh. "Let me see your conscription notice." Ping handed over the scroll. _By order of the Emperor, Fa…_

Shang's eyes snapped up. "Fa Zhou? _The_ Fa Zhou?"

There was _no_ way they were related. No way. The boy was a scrawny wreck- _dainty,_ even: small, no muscle, snarky and clearly lacking people skills that made his father such an astute commander. And, by the looks of it, the kid was a shoddy fighter too.

"I didn't know Fa Zhou had a son" Chi Fu gasped beside Shang.

"Er, he ... doesn't talk about me much" The kid followed up his stirring defense with an equally impressive attempt at spitting, the drool hanging limply as it inched towards the earth.

"I can see why. The boy's an absolute lunatic!" the bureaucrat retorted. Shang suppressed an eyeroll while the new recruits started snickering at the barb.

Shang took another look at Fa Ping, circling the boy. He was tiny, sure, and a mess- well, and had made a mess - but, Shang thought, maybe some training could turn the kid into something.

And he _was_ just a kid – given his height and underdevelopment, probably no older than Zhen. Plus, heavens knows what the commanders of the academy would make with Shang's own brother if he showed up, insolent and too sickly for training. Impressions weren't always everything and even a coarse stone could be molded into a deadly arrow with enough patience and attention.

Shang glanced up and looked at the scrappy, battered mess of men watching the confrontation. the kid wasn't the only problem; they would _all_ be screwed if there wasn't some order in this freaking place. Smart mouths, no discipline, misdirected force, absolutely shoddy fighting skills – they _all_ needed a lesson – and to see that one man's actions can tip the scale for all of them.

"Okay, gentlemen, thanks to your new friend Ping, you'll spend tonight picking up _every_ _single grain of rice_." The recruits groaned. "Tomorrow, the real work begins."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks for the patience and the feedback, and hello to the new followers! To be quite honest, this chapter and the next were some of the most difficult to revisit and rehash when I came back to this story (mostly because there's only so much that you can change!), but I've tried to retool as much as I can. Enjoy!


	5. Directing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The troops begin their training at Wu Zhong, but what should be an easy task does not go as expected for Li Shang

_The onset of troops is like the rush of a torrent which will even roll stones along in its course_

**Chapter 5: Directing**

The first gold streams of early morning sun filtered through the panels of the tent as an orange fell back towards the camp cot. Shang caught it inches above his face, hurling it immediately back towards the canvas roof.

The rush of adrenaline had sent Shang's thoughts racing like a mountain fall, ever since he drifted out of sleep with the first hint of morning dawn. Today, they started basic training, and Li Shang started his first full day of command.

How to squeeze in months and years of physical and mental conditioning into a matter of a few weeks? He tossed the orange back above his face. How could he make these roughnecks ready for the sacrifice, pain, and struggles ahead? Even if they never saw a real battle, the marching and preparation itself would probably be more action than these men had ever seen. Ancestors, for most of them - he threw the fruit again- even the trip to camp had been the farthest any of them had been from home in their lives. How do you prepare someone for surviving in snow, in the cloud forrest, in the plains and in the jungle, much less fighting in them without some familiarity of the places they're supposed to protect?

He tossed the orange again. _Nevermind the freaking counsel. That scrawny man made it clear yesterday and again last night that his reports are going straight into my file and that he hates legacies._ Shang was not completely surprised by Chi Fu's obvious antipathy towards him. While he clearly looked up to his father and anyone else of status, many of the government officials held hard feelings towards "legacies" or the children of ranking Imperial figures, even though they _all_ had to take the same exams to gain the same post. _If he's the one writing my report though, I can't –no one can– screw this up._

Shang chucked the orange back up again with exasperation, and it ricocheted off the taut fabric above. The ripe fruit bounced over to the other side of the command tent, rolling along the dusty ground before it came to rest on the rug by the strategy table.

"Uuuugh…" Shang groaned, sitting up on the cot and treading over. He picked up the orange, the layer of dirt glowing softly like fine silk gauze in the morning rays. As he dusted off the rind, it glowed brighter still.

Shang sighed again as he broke into the skin and sat back down, breathing in the warmth of the spring sun. _Were they untrained? For the most part, yes. But also, for the most part, they were strong, hearty- famers, carpenters, fishermen. Men who could work and men who knew the struggles of daily life and who needed order and discipline in their normal lives to survive._

He bit into the sweet flesh.

Most of the new recruits were older than Shang was- some by more than a decade, but in many ways, they were still boys. Naive. Fresh-faced. Like the guy with the belly – Zhen, or that Ping kid- or like how he himself was during his first weeks at the academy, before he knew what it meant to be prepared, to be willing, and most importantly, to be _able_ to make the necessary sacrifices to protect the Emperor and the Middle Kingdom.

He recalled the wisdom drilled into him in class after class at the academy and the example of his father and superiors. He smirked. These rookies would need guidance, sure, but in the light of day Shang could see that his earlier worries were misdirected.

A parable from his studies came to the front of Shang's memory: he couldn't transform them into skilled veterans overnight any more than he could stop a stream and turn it into a forrest. But, he thought, _what I could do is, one stone at a time, redirect that stream towards what it needed to become: a lake, a watermill, even the crashing waves of the ocean. One stone at a time._

Time to turn these boys into men.

* * *

 

_[Mulan Concept art: Disney Animation Visual Development]_

Shang got back from his brief run just in time to see the throngs of men groggily downing their breakfast in front of the mess tent.

The cool air of the plains, the sore strain of working muscles and steady pace of steps had done wonders to clear his mind of the doubts and anxiety from earlier. The keys, to cracking this bunch of turtle-heads would was clear: strength and discipline. That was the core of his training at the academy because it was the foundation of any well-balanced soldier. If he had anything to do with it, it would become the new center of these men too.

All they would need to do is master the basics- the martial arts, the weapons training, the basic survival skills- and develop the most basic mental and physical fortitude to accomplish those tasks well. Easy. Or at least it would be easy to be reasonably competent. To be honest, it should be something even the youngest of them could master.

Shang wiped down his neck and quickly inhaled the eggs left on the side table by the camp cook.

"I'd like a pan fried noodle!" Guffaws and chatter roared from the gaggle outside into his quarters.

"Completely incapable of following directions" he heard Chi Fu grumble as the skinny man scribbled on his tablet.

Shang threw open the tent flaps- already some of the brawlers from yesterday were piled together again. He strode over to the training ground.

"Soldiers!" the captain barked. The men snapped to attention as Shang felt a glowing warmth swell in his chest as he shrugged off his shirt. If he was going to have to hand-hold all the new recruits through basic training, at least he could be comfortable.

"You will assemble swiftly and silently, every morning." He picked up the quiver and bow resting by the practice staffs. "Anyone who does otherwise, will answer to me," Shang marched down the line of recruits- now standing at something resembling attention.

"Ooh, tough guy." A scratchy hoot broke the still awe of the new recruits.

And here was the real troublemaker- mouthy, prideful and apparently clueless as to how to treat a commanding officer: Lin Yao- one of the instigators in yesterday's brawl. _If you want to be tough, let's all do this the tough way._

"Yao." Shang locked, raised and drew an arrow halfway back in a fluid motion, focusing briefly on the squat little man as Shang erased the grin from the man's gnarled face. He then swept his front arm up and completed the draw, finally releasing the taut bowstring. "Thank you for volunteering," he chimed before dropping the cheery facade. "Retrieve the arrow."

"I'll get that arrow, pretty boy, and I'll do it with my shirt on," he heard the lumbering recruit spit. The little man crouched down, ready to jump before Shang interrupted him.

"One moment, you seem to be missing something." As Shang walked over he could hear the sweet eagerness dripping from his voice. Chi Fu staggered behind him, bringing two heavy bronze weights.

Shang lifted the first one out and cast it on the man's hairy arms. "This represents discipline." He could hear the heavy weight clank to the ground. "And this represents strength." Yao's whole upper body slumped down.

"You need both to reach the arrow," Shang finished and stepped back, doing his best to suppress a smile. Watching this might even be fun. Yao tried to scurry up, and made it about a pace off the ground before slipping back down- slowing his descent with his _teeth._

However, one by one, all of the men tried and failed to climb up the pole– no one making it any further than Yao had. "We've got a long way to go," Shang muttered while he tried to ease the tension in his neck. Ping limped by, the last to try and fail.

"Alright ladies!" he shouted. "Grab a staff, and get into formation! Let's make you boys into men!"

"We are going to start with some _balance._ NONE of you can appreciate exactly how sad and sorry your asses are or what it will take to get your spineless, pale, pathetic lot ANYWHERE close to being able to survive battle."

"THAT," he barked, staring down the frightened recruits, "is _my_ job. To teach you to survive. To make you strong. To make you faster, better, more resilient than anything you'll face out there."

He turned his bare back towards the group. "Let's get down to business."

* * *

 

Shang sank down and sat ion his cot, the taut canvas finally catching the weight he'd carried throughout the second day in camp.

Training had been a disaster.

They had spent the entirety of the morning _and_ afternoon learning a very basic set of forms and exercises. After hours of drills and practice, form was still sloppy, imprecise and unbalanced, and about ten of his men walked out with bruises and a lack of focus after Ping had started seizing, hitting everyone within reach with his staff.

Redirection. He sighed, collapsing back in exhaustion. A hell of a lot easier said than done.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks everyone for the feedback! 


	6. Weak Points and Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training is not what Shang expects. 
> 
> In fact, it's a disaster.

_Military tactics are like unto water; for water in its natural course runs away from high places and hastens downwards._

_So in war, the way is to avoid what is strong and to strike at what is weak_

**Chapter 6: Weak points and strong**

 

Shang leaned over the small camp desk, balancing his forehead between his fingertips as he flipped through the pages in his journal.

 

“Tolerable, fair, unacceptable, subpar, middling.” He muttered his daily summaries aloud to himself. With a frown, he folded the pages back onto one another, then shoved them away. The training situation had not gotten better over the past 10 days. If anything –injured, dispirited, exhausted–the recruits were in a worse state now than before. 

 

Shang hastily stuffed the sheets back into their folio and shoved his way out of the tent. Fists clenched, he strode over to the shadowy hills looming over the camp’s western edge.

 

“ _Uuuuuuuugh,”_ he huffed to himself as he trudged away from the mess of tents. These boys had gone from merely incompetent to actually blowing up Imperial property.Chi Fu had made it clear that as their Commanding Officer, his replacement tent and necessities would be coming from the Shang’s salary, and what’s more, the bureaucrat was sending note of the incident to Shang’s permanent record in Chang’an. 

 

The bad news was a finishing touch on what had been a horrible two weeks: somehow his training had managed to make a bunch of greenbacks not into men, but even more incompetent idiots. 

 

_What had he missed?_ _What did_ they ALL _miss?_ He had tried to teach them survival skills, artillery, hand-to-hand combat, accuracy, balance, defense. None of it stuck, not even the most basic lessons. 

 

Shang thought back to one of the first lessons: defense.

 

* * *

 

 

_“A strong and centered defense is the core of any warrior’s battle,” he explained. Shang stood as strong as a boulder on the edge of a steep cliff. Any slip of footing and he would plummet_

 

_“For that,” he continued, “you need to find the balance between stoking the fire within and remaining tranquil and calm as a forrest. Redirect your opponent’s attack without moving.”_

 

_Shang challenged them to pick up the small stones that littered the cliffside and pelt him. He blocked the steady attack of stones, and the rocks fell harmlessly to the ground. It was about redirection of the entirety of the barrage, not the stones themselves. Yet, time and time again, the boys were distracted, only hitting a single stone or, at best, two, back towards the throwers._

***

 

_What could he have done differently_? Shang frowned, trudging forth. Beyond more instruction in basic technique –their entire outlook was faulty, and a simple skills lesson could not amend that. 

They thought of themselves, their survival, their performance not the squadron as a unit.

 

_No,_ he reassured himself. _Skills and technique were not the primary issue._ Even in lessons meant to highlight such items.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Accuracy and consistency both require a calm and tranquil mind- even as you’re steeling yourself to kill a man. That is what archery is all about,” he barked at the recruits._

 

_The greenbacks made some semblance of an attempt at making the targets: first to hitt the bulls-eye, then hitting a moving (fruit) target, then –if ready– hitting three of them at once. The exercise began well, or at the very least, the recruits made an honest effort. But, frustration set in quickly- they demonstrated barely any patience or discipline._

 

_Most troubling of all, he caught some, well, one recruit – Ping– cheating on the most advanced exercise. It wasn’t even that he was trying to show off, and obviously taking on something above his skill level. (Seriously, how in the world did Ping think he would buy that?). No, it was the fact that he was cutting corners, and had the_ _nerve_ _to be glib and smile about it. Did he not realize that that shit- that cutting corners –that taking the easy route, that taking off more than you could chew– gets real men killed in the field?_

 

_It was unconscionable and unacceptable._

 

_ _

 

* * *

 

 

The path up the cliffside shone like old silver the ghostly shine of the full moon. Emerging from the shadowy path behind him Shang started to trot towards the outcrop above him. 

 

A swell of clean spring air filled Shang’s chest as he took a breath in. As he breathed out, it became hot and stale. _My men- my mission- were a disgrace, there was no hiding from this. I failed them._

 

This was his chance to prove himself to his father, to his superiors. To show that he, Li Shang, had the skills and knowledge to be a great leader, not only in the classroom, and not only because of his family, but on his own merit. 

 

_So far, I’ve failed–and now I have to fix it._

 

He came to a full stop at the top of the cliff. The whole of camp lay illuminated in the valley below. He sat down and looked over out onto the sleeping recruits below.

 

_Where did I go wrong?_ Shang looked into his hands and sighed. Looking back out, he saw the last remaining men slugging back from the latrines. One by one they looked up at the pole- at the arrow lodged at the top of it, and trudged away. 

 

The pillar was supposed to be a challenge. A difficult one? Yes. But not unattainable. Something the men could compete for and drive one another forth to reach. Or at least that’s what it was supposed to be in the academy. These men were so discouraged, though, that they didn’t even bother trying. 

 

They were demoralized, and he could not send broken troops into the heat of battle. They would be doomed. Even with weak links, unhoned skills, or failing strength, what mattered most was a group’s determination and trust that they could get the job done. That they could trust one another –trust themselves – to save each other’s asses and complete the mission even in the most terrifying of circumstances. Without that trust, without that confidence, they were lost.

 

Why were they lost though? What had changed since that first day? Shang thought about all the missteps, the foibles, the explosions, and mistakes and injuries. _Nothing. That was the problem. Nothing had changed since that first day, except that the men knew how screwed they all were._

 

Shang looked up. 

 

Something needed to change – and he knew who it was.

 

* * *

 

The next day was abysmal. 

 

After breakfast, the men staggered sluggishly towards the center of camp. 

 

Shang stomped over. In the back of his mind, he understood their fatigue and lack of form after nearly two weeks’ hard training, but he pushed that aside – the huns were not going to wait for them to get their act together, and ever slouch, every second they stalled was a step backwards.

 

“Grab a _bang_ and two sandbags. Tie them to the end of your stick and run!,” the young captain barked.

The two measly sandbags weighed less than half of the weight they they would have to carry once they were called to the front. In either attack or retreat, they would need to take at least this much gear along with them swift and assured.

 

“Let’s move it! Move it! Move it! We don’t have time, ladies!” Shang yelled as they moved up the hills. “The Huns are gaining on us!” 

 

Chi Fu caught the captain’s attention- pointing to the end of the crew with his brush: lagging well behind the rest of the regimen was ping, staggering under the weight of the two little bags. With a stumble, the boy toppled to the ground, his face scrunched in pain. 

 

Shang glared down at the kid and snatched up the weights, placing them onto his own back. Ping’s head collapsed back onto the ground.

 

“Hustle, fellows, and you might just make it!” Shang yelled as he caught up to the rest of his men.

 

Hours later, the men shuffled back towards the campground, the sticks falling limply off their wet, exhausted shoulders. Shang gently lifted his sticks into the pile on the ground, his muscles sore but still supple. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ping slink by, shrunken and pale with a cold sweat. 

 

Walking by the kid, he knew what he had to say. “Meet me by my tent after dinner,” muttered Shang. Ping’s only response was an audible gulp.

 

As the cool night lifted the muggy haze that had drenched the camp, Shang went by the watering post. He grabbed the reins of Ping’s horse and marched back towards the huddle of tents. Out front, the boy stood, small and timid, waiting for him.

“You're unsuited for the rage of war, Ping. Pack up, go home, you're done here,” snapped Shang as he thrust the reins into his hands. 

 

The boy didn’t offer a response; there was nothing to say. 

 

_“How could I have made a man out of that?”_ he he sighed as he turned away into the dark night.

 

* * *

 

“Go go go!” 

  
The chants drifted into his tent before the first rays of golden sunlight. Bleary-eyed, Shang moaned with dread as he raced to throw on his pants and tie up his hair –if it was _another_ fight, it he thought _I swear_ _–_ _I’ll kill one of them before the Huns even get a chance._

 

Shang stepped out of the tent, looking for where the commotion was coming from. As soon as he stepped onto the dewy grass, an arrow pierced the ground in front of him. His eyes widened in shock, and he looked up. He blinked, and shook his head. _Was he still asleep?_

 

At the top of the post, a small figure sat crouched over, grinning broadly: Ping.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Fun Fact: the first bound paper books trace back to the Tang Dynasty, and the oldest existing paper book dates back to around 850 CE. Of course, the Chinese were writing notes, reports, letter on paper, and using paper for things like wrapping paper and toilet paper since the 2nd Century BCE.
> 
> Bang: the staff we see the troops training with in the training sequence.


	7. Maneuvering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The troops' rapid turnaround was a small victory in itself.  
> Too bad Shang's other challenges weren't as easily defeated

_Let your rapidity be that of the wind,your compactness that of the forest. In raiding and plundering be like fire, in immovability like a mountain. Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt._

**Chapter 7: Maneuvering**

 

Over the next week, the unit made a nearly miraculous transformation. Shang watched the crew hustle past one another as they flitted from post to post across the creek, onward up the mountain.

 

The whole unit had drawn inspiration from Ping’s success, and the lifted spirits brought new life to their training. Day after day, the men made incredible strides in conquering the tasks that had challenged them the most: they could hit target after target with a bow and arrow, could break stones with just a strike, competently in handle artillery and make it through the obstacle course with strength and ease. Most importantly, they were able to pass their survival tests, stay focused and determined throughout their mental exercises and defend themselves in hand-to-hand combat. 

 

Of them all, Ping had made the most incredible progress. Despite his small size, Ping kept pace with men who must have been twice his age, carrying supplies that must have been nearly half his weight. The boy had even managed to land several well-placed kicks on Shang himself during training that morning. Shang had to admit, he was almost proud of the kid: while still uncoordinated and not nearly as developed as the other men, the boy had managed to figure out how to make his size and agility into weapons he could use. Even if they saw no other action, seeing Ping become so assured was a small victory in itself.

 

Given his rolein leading by example and transforming the whole unit, Shang had had no option but to promote Ping to corporal. The night before, he announced the news to the boy as well as to the other three who would help lead their squadrons: Link, Chien Po and Yao.

 

Of course, if he was to be perfectly honest, the titles were more ornamental than anything else. But still, they would help bear the banner and take charge of transporting artillery and supplies that were not individual soldiers’ duties. Ping was also young enough that he could maybe still join the academy, if it turned out that leadership suited him well.

 

Shang smiled to himself as he watched the portly Chien Po bound and tumble gracefully along the obstacle course – who could have predicted that the troublemakers who had started all the ruckus the first day of camp would be the ones responsible for the rest of the troops only a few weeks later?

 

Looking over the cliff, Shang could also see Yao stepping naturally into his new role, leading a pack of men in sprints up the mountain, teasing them as they pushed onwards. Already, the captain could see that in their successes, the men were bonding together. The realization made the young man’s chest swell: this is what his job was, after all – to create a fighting team.

 

In the back of his mind, however, Shang was reminded that, on this mission at least, that kind of camaraderie was out of his own reach. He was an officer: he was his men’s leader; he could be friendly with his men; he could take pride in their bonding, their successes their teamwork.

 

But no matter what, no matter how close a unit became, a commanding officer couldn’t have real friends on the battlefield. Friends got killed. Friends got _you_ killed.

 

Moreover, that kind of bonding and fraternization was a recipe for insubordination. A solder’s comrades were his equals: comrades could call each other out – challenge one another. In the field, however, a commanding officer couldn’t be challenged: the squadron’s lives - the success of the mission-depended on that. Soldiers orders precisely because they weren’t friends, they aren’t equals; an officer’s orders to protect the Middle Kingdom came down from the Emperor himself. Upsetting that chain of command risked upsetting the very order of what it was they were sworn to protect.

 

 

If there was one thing Li Shang had learned from his father over the years it was that an officer and his soldiers must live in separate worlds. 

 

* * *

 

 

While in the field, the men had made marked progress, Shang worried that back in camp his job as Captain was under even more scrutiny than before. Before, Chi Fu’s side comments and brutal observations had been a fairly accurate record of the struggles them men brought to camp. While the comments were harsh – and the dock in pay and memos to central command back in Chang’an were annoying at best, they were also understandable, and h **o** nest. After all, it was Shang’s first command post, nevermind that the invasion had caught them all unprepared. He had making mistakes; the troops were struggling. 

 

When the stakes are life and death, and you’re struggling to stay the course, there isn’t any time to worry about legacy, or records or promotion: all that exists is the fight ahead.

 

 

  
  
[Checking arrows](http://ohanamaila.deviantart.com/art/Checking-arrows-638733607) by [Ohanamaila](http://ohanamaila.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)

 

However, the men’s sudden transformation did nothing to impact Chi Fu’s reports. If anything, the men’s now-minor missteps– incoordination during daily exercises, rowdiness outside of training, sing-song games during earned even more ire and criticism from the man. Shang was starting to wonder if the counsel’s harsher and harsher assessments were less honest and more a personal vendetta of the bureaucrat.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

As the third week drew to a close, Shang dropped by Chi Fu’s tent to request a copy of the report the magistrate was sending to the General.The letter would update his father about the troops’ progress and, with any luck, confirm that they were moving out to the rendezvous point at the Tung Shao Pass. 

 

“Yes” the scrawny man squawked. 

 

“You’re due to send the full report to the General, if I’m correct sir.” It was a statement, more than a question. “I was wondering if I could have a copy of the letter, for my own records.”

 

Chi-Fu looked Shang up and down, and Shang felt his shoulders pull back to full attention, almost involuntarily. “That information is between General LI and myself,” the counsel sneered. “Still,” he paused, still eyeing Shang, “ I will take your unorthodox request under consideration.” 

 

Shang felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as his brow knitted together - the request wasn’t official protocol, sure, but it was not uncommon. Still, he thought, the counsel didn’t give him a flat-out rejection. 

 

“Understood,” the young man bowed slightly as he turned back to his tent, deciding not to try his luck. 

 

The next morning, a note lay on the ground beneath the flaps of the captain’s tent. 

 

_Captain,_

_I have considered your request. As I’m sure you are aware, your request is not protocol. You will receive your own review when training is completed._

_Attentively,_

_The Emperor’s Council_

 

Shang cursed under his breath and crumpled the note into a ball, slamming itdown on the desk. He shook his head: there was nothing that he could do but head out for yet another day of training. 

 

* * *

 

Despite the now-palpable eye of the counsel looming over his shoulder, Shang buried his personal anxieties and decided to take pride in his men’s progress instead – there was no other choice. Instead, them living up to Chi-Fu’s bloated expectations was the only way that he himself could prove to his father that his faith in his son was not misplaced after all. 

 

Day by day, they all became more competent warriors, embodying the virtues a wise leader should encourage in his troops – and in himself. They were swift as the river and the wind; tranquil and compact as a forrest; as fierce and strong as a fire yet as stable as the mountain.Above all, their discipline and focus made them as impenetrable and mysterious as the night, ready to strike with the rapidity and lethality of lightning. 

 

They were warriors now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: To celebrate the announcement of Disney's live-action Mulan film finally getting a date, I'm updating twice this week!  
> Enjoy, and looking forward to the new film!


	8. Adaptability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a good leader’s job to inspire loyalty in his men - but can Shang inspire trust in his superiors?

_The art of war teaches us to rely not on the likelihood of the enemy's not coming, but on our own readiness to receive him_

**Chapter 8: Adaptability**

 

Yet another week passed, the mid-spring flowers poked up out of the earth and began to bud. The men, including Shang, became more restless by the day, as the drills became more routine and the call of war still remained frustratngly out of reach. 

 

It was truly remarkable what some of the men were able to accomplish in such a short amount of time.While most of them probably would fail any knowledge exam on the great classics, tactics and history– in combat and survival skills many of them were now as skilled as an average academy grad. 

 

The days stretched by as they waited for the General’s call – wake, train, eat, run, mental drills, train, eat, sleep. Repeat

 

Finally, at dinner a month after they came to the camp, Ling came up to the captain, standing at stiff attention. Shang gave a nod of acknowledgement to the lanky man, signaling for him to speak.

 

“A letter from the counsel, sir,” he said, handing over a small scrap of paper.

 

Shang’s eyes quickly scanned 

 

“Thank you, Ling,” he nodded, letting a sigh of relief and excitement out as the soldier scuttled back to dinner.

 

 

* * *

 

Shang rushed through the rest of his meal, stuffing his face full of the rice left in his bowl, eager to meet with Chi Fu and finally discuss the report.Maybe he’d they’d finally get their 

 

Not even even bothering to tie his robe, he bounded over to the older man’s tent tent. He sat down before the counsel shaking his head as he glanced over the 10 _different_ portraits of himself the scrawny man had managed to hide around the makeshift room.

 

Unfortunately, the encounter was less of a meeting and more of a lecture, where Chi Fu talked down to Shang, listing off every way in which the men were failing Imperial Academy standards. 

 

“For the fifth time already, they don't need to pass those exams!” the young man interjected, his hand pressed to his temple. “They’re soldiers not officers. They need to fight for heaven’s sakes. They’re ready - sign the papers and let us to go out to the front.” 

 

“You think your troops are ready to fight? Hah!” Chi Fu’s arms flung behind him in anger. “They wouldn't last a minute against the Huns!

 

“They completed their training,” the captain stated simply. 

 

“Those boys are no more fit to be soldiers than you are to be captain.” Shang’s eyes widened at the insult. “Once the general reads my report, your troops will never see battle.” The little man stuck his nose back in his tablet.

 

Shang felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle at the injustice.”We're not finished!” he snapped, pulling the tablet back down to stare down the counsel in the face.

The man sneered, curtly peeling off the captain’s fingers. “Be careful, Captain. The general may be your father, but I am the Emperor's Council,” Chi Fu bragged, his nose rising higher and higher as he talked. 

Shang could feel his anger pulsing through his ears. as the little man went on, his voice dropping to a hush.” And, oh, by the way, I got that job on my own.” Shang’s eyes widened at the insult. It took all the patience and willpower he had to limit his response to balling his fists as he took the little man’s cue to exit.

 

As soon as he pushed himself out of the tent, Shang found himself face-to-face with Ping. “Hey, I'll hold him, and you punch!” the kid chirped. Shang kept trudging by. 

 

“For what it's worth, I think you're a great captain!” Shang heard Ping call out behind his back.

 

Shang paused, a wall of affection and uncertainty stopping him dead in his tracks. 

Despite himself, Li Shang had grown fond of the cadet. Fa Ping was young, mischievous, foolhardy, and still as gawky as he had been when camp had started more than a month ago. Yet Ping had also shown great determination and resilience in overcoming his own limitations. Moreover, this drive had inspired the other recruits to reach inside themselves, work hard, and find what it took to become soldiers worthy of defending China. It was an admirable trait in any comrade– and in any friend. 

But, no matter the kid’s background, no matter how much progress he had made, they were an officer and a soldier. They weren’t equals; they couldn’t be friends.

 

Plus, eavesdropping or just overhearing, Ping had invaded the privacy and security of his commanding officer and a senior Imperial bureaucrat. Information in the wrong hands – even innocent ones– could jeopardize a mission. 

 

Shang squinted his eyes: it was probably for the best that he not quash the boy’s admiration. After all, it was a good leader’s job to inspire loyalty in his men. He gave a a slight nod in acknowledgement and continued back to his tent, mulling over the insults and disappointment the counsel had heaped upon him. 

 

* * *

 

 

The moon had risen above the treetops, and Shang was still pacing around his tent, his mind reeling with insults he wished he could hurl at the counsel. 

 

“ _Got the job on his own._ Psssh!” he muttered to himself. He had worked as hard as any of the other officers – _harder_ in fact– taken the same tests, excelled beyond any in his field. “That arrogant, sunnofa–“

 

As soon as the words passed through his lips, the donkey burst forth past the canvas walls. 

“Captain! Captain!” he brayed. “Urgent news from the general! We're needed at the front!” Chi Fu thrust the piece of paper into Shang’s face.

 

_Captain Li:_

_Your men are needed at the front. Make way to the rendezvous point as soon as possible. Do not delay._

_Respectfully,_

_The General_

 

Shang read the message twice, the hope swelling forth in his chest transforming into firm resolve as he looked back up from the text. After weeks and weeks of waiting, it was happening: they were going to war.

“Send a message through the camp,” Shang told Chi Fu, the small man’s face solemn as he nodded. Shang paused for a moment, his lips catching up to the race of thoughts running through his brain. 

 

The scribe took the silence as a cue and headed towards the flap, but the captain had one more thing to say, a smile pulling at his cheeks. “We move out at sunrise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: No other notes, except a hearty thank you for the comments and kudos so far! Please feel free to share so far!


	9. Army on the March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The troops move out - away from camp and toward their fate.

_If you are careful of your men, and camp on hard ground, the army will be free from disease of every kind, and this will spell victory._

**Chapter 9: Army on the March**

Under the blue light of the early morning, Li Shang tugged firmly on the leather straps. Yanking them one last time, he secured the canvas tarp, bedroll, and tent poles with a knot to his horse, Xen's, saddle. The white horse didn't even glance up from his breakfast of dew-covered grass as his master loaded up up the steed. Around the remnants of the camp, hundreds of men finished packing their supplies in the pale wash of dawn: they were heading off to battle at last.

A rush of pride warmed the young captain as he opened the brown saddle bag, and arranged its contents and made sure he had remembered everything: a flint stone and whetstone, coil of rope, a small cup, a brush, and other odds and ends. Satisfied with its contents, Shang carefully slipped in one last prized possession, careful not to wrinkle its contents: a thin blue folder, containing the sheets of paper he needed to keep his field journal, make reports, and send letters back to Chang'an.

Finally, it was time to go.

* * *

 

Field Journal

Campaign March

Day 1

Conditions: Fair but cool - good for travel.

Distance travelled: 45 li to the northwest-

Morale: high; excited

Other Notes: Moved out from Wu Zhong camp at sunrise. made it over Qicunxang Ridge. Early day in morning.

 

Field Journal

Campaign March

Day 2

Conditions: Fair; slightly warmer than yesterday.

Distance travelled: 55 li to the west.

Morale: High spirits.

Other Notes: Travel route mostly hills and pastures. Beautiful views of ridges in distance.

Tasked one of the corporals – Ling– with taking point on morale for rest of journey. Has started various trail games, songs and talk to keep up spirits.

 

_Eight Views of Xiaoxiang by_ Li Shi - 12th Century CE

 

Field Journal

Campaign March

Day 3

Conditions: Sunny

Distance travelled: 60 li, to the north.

Morale: Same

Other Notes: None

 

Field Journal

Campaign March

Day 4

Conditions: Cloudy. Humid, hotter, but no signs of rainfall.

Distance travelled: 70 li

Morale: Good.

Other Notes: Started day in pastures, made way to rice fields by noon. Found campground on dry hill between paddy fields- local town gifted 10 chickens, basket of eggs, and nearly 700 liang rice to supplement meals. Muggy conditions and good speed meant early end to day.

 

Field Journal

Campaign March

Day 5

Conditions: Sunny, clear weather, wet feet.

Distance travelled: Nearly 85 li along roads, with some water crossings.

Morale: Fair. Morale dampened by soggy conditions, long miles, waning excitement, long trek

Other Notes: Moved out early. Slogged through the lowlands all day- good pace, but many water crossings. No damage to horses or to men; blisters minimal. Wagons sent around hills to ensure canons, rations, and powder stayed clear of rice paddies. Made camp on roads.

 

Day 6

Conditions: Same. More humid. Clouds to north/northeast.

80 li traveled.

Exhausted.

 

_Mulan Concept Art- Walt Disney Animation Studios_

Field Journal

Campaign March

Day 7

Conditions: Same as yesterday for morning. Dryer and cooler as we made it into mountains. Dark clouds currently to the northwest, above the range, but no precipitation yet

Distance travelled: 65 li

Morale: Improved after long rest. Good.

First week ration inventory: Unit grain rations solid. Personal rations still stocked. No need for local sourcing of food.

Other Notes: Finally made it to foothills of Guyan range. Mandated stocking change met with relief. Road growing more rocky as we made it into mountains.

Encampments made along second ridge before dusk, men under strict orders to dry shoes, stockings.

 

Field Journal

Campaign March

Day 8

Conditions: Rocky terrain. Weather cooler throughout day as we moved up hills into mountains. Cloudy all day with first snowfall seen after noon. Precipitation stalling into evening.

Distance travelled: 45 li

Morale: Decent- complaints of sore feet, muscles. Corporals checking for blisters.

Other Notes: Upping emphasis in dry clothes, blankets, tending fires. Late start this morning to finish rest, drying supplies, care for horses.

 

Field Journal.

Campaign March

Day 9

Conditions: Clear, cool. Snow on ground, but not in air.

Distance travelled: 35 li.

Morale: Better

Other Notes: None

 

Field Journal.

Campaign March

Day 10

Conditions: Terrain: rocky. Weather cold with steady snowfall, but sunny.

Distance travelled: Only 25 li

Morale: Excited - improved by weather and snowy conditions: snowball fights primary diversion. Main complaint is cold tea.

Other Notes: Corporals checked men for frostbite at mealtimes. Made several breaks to build fires, acclimate to mountain air, recreation. With any luck we should have about 10 li left until pass.

* * *

 

Li Shang hastily stuffed the notebook back in his saddle bag. He grabbed on tight as he leaned back, careful not to lose his balance as the group made their way up the ever-steepening mountains.

He sat back up and looked around: the men's snowball fight from the previous day had bled into the morning, and Chi Fu had found himself among the morning's first casualties. His screech echoed against the white cliffs, as did the unit's guffaws. The captain forced himself to swallow his own smile.

It was a fun change of pace from the other game the men used to amuse themselves as they trudged over the mountains: creating, then critiquing each other's perfect woman: Ling had started the activity among the other single men early in the march, and it had gained more and more support as they marched on.

Shang had refrained from commenting or joining in on many of the trail games and songs- occasionally humming along with an occasional tune he recognized. Still, he paid attention and made his own notes, trying to keep _himself_ occupied as they all tried to stave off monotony.

Somehow, young Ping's ideas on women seemed the least crazy to the captain- a woman who was less a statue or doll and something more of a person one could entrust with an estate or educating children was sensible. While the other men focused on external attributes or other traits. Shang noted to himself that he had seen many of his classmates or other figures in the capitol settle into bland, poorly-considered matches. Meanwhile, Ping seemed to have an idealism - and hopefully a wise eye towards a careful match- that Shang found himself sharing. Beauty, domestic skills, talent did not matter – at least not for a soldier – if she could not be trusted with one's home, children and, yes, one's heart, while away on a campaign. If the women in his family were any indication, women who had brains and spoke their minds – at least in private – were necessary for tackling the battles on the domestic front. Maybe the kid was son of Fa Zhou after all.

Then again, maybe those high standards was the reason the others kept shutting Ping down every time he piped up – and why Shang himself was still single.

Shang kept thinking about what his older sister had told him, and Qing's coming marriage prospects. Lost in thought, Shang led the troops as they crested the top of the hill marking the entrance to the pass, looking down on the village of Bahouzhen.

The company - the whole world- came to an abrupt stop, however, as they looked down the hill. Where the gate to village should have welcomed them, stood a smoking charcoal shell.

An icy thought howled as it whirred through Shang's mind: Shan-Yu got here first.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta, Apophatically, for his help with this chapter!  
> Some quick notes on some details in this chapter-
> 
> The very first bound paper books was created in China in the 3rd Century CE, though it did not become popular until the Song Dynasty (around 1000 CE).  Bamboo books were printed as early as the Tang Dynasty (7th Century CE) - roughly the era Disney animators set Mulan in – as well as standard sized papers and toilet paper. 
> 
> Units of measurement:
> 
> li– roughly half a kilometer/ a third of a mile throughout most of Chinese history, though in the Tang Dynasty it was closer to a 300 meters or a quarter of a mile. 
> 
> liang– roughly 50 grams or two ounces. 


	10. Terrain – Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Li Shang and the troops reach the mouth of the Pass at last- but what they find there is not what they expect.

_Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death._

**Chapter 10: Terrain – Part 1**

 

The glow of the fire shone red as blood bleeding up into the morning sky. The bell of what used to be the front gate hung limply from its blackened gallows, its weak clanking both the town’s reception and death rattle. Crumbled chunks of stone collapsed into dusty piles as flames clung to their foundations.

 

The charred skeletons of the houses still standing groaned in pain as their brothers’ ruins lay smoking in the muddy earth. Inside the burnt beams, embers danced orange and yellow, as if a legion of spirits was still grasping at the last fragments of life within the village’s remains.

 

The company stood in silence and shock as they took in the scene before them; the bitter mountain air screeched as it swept through the pass.

 

“Search for survivors!”  Somehow he managed to keep the tight knot rising in his chest from reaching his throat, his own voice sounding strangely calm and strong as he barked out the order.

 

Still not believing what he saw before him, Shang gave Xen a gentle kick forward.

 

He eyed the plateau as the reality of the situation sunk in: the razed buildings, the totality of the destruction all pointed to one fact – the Huns had made good on their promises. Their war was total and it was brutal. Shang doubled back to his men before surveying more of the damage.

 

The men scattered through the ruins with the captain’s yell. Shang knew time was of the essence: injuries, infection, exposure all counted on time to claim their victims. There were hours at most to claim them before death did.

 

Still mounted on horseback, Shang led Xen tentatively through the smoldering remains. With an echoing “ _CRACK,_ ” a still-smoking beam collapsed in front of them; the horse reared up in fright, while the captain tried to comfort him.

 

Horse and rider padded carefully through the empty shell where the town square should have been.

 

The pieces didn’t add up: the city was in ruins, but there were no traces of human life – not even bodies. It was clear the citizens were not caught completely off-guard: they weren’t murdered in their own homes at least, but it wasn’t clear why – or who – was the one to round up the civilians.  Were the citizens evacuated? Was it a distraction? Was this what his father’s last letter meant?

 

Spying Ping and Chi-Fu, across the empty courtyard, in some sort of burnt-out palace or mayor’s house – the stone façade was a clear sign of wealth in a village this small – Shang made his way towards them.

 

“I don't understand,” Shang muttered as he dismounted, stepping up to Ping.  He shook his head. “My father should've been here.”

 

Before the young soldier could even nod in reply, Chi-Fu yelled from the outcrop he stood upon.

 

Captain!

 

As he closed the gap between them, all the bureaucrat could do was point down and gape open-mouthed. Reaching the precipice, Shang saw why.

 

In the valley below lay the answer to all Shang’s questions: the bodies of thousands of the Emperor’s soldiers, together with the remains of the villagers they were sworn to protect. Their figures, dark in the early morning light, stood out against the ruby rivers of blood that caught the first feeble beams of sunshine through the mountain pass.

 

Not even the horses had been spared from the massacre; white pelts blended in with their snowy graves, distinguished only by their blue saddle blankets and the lifeless forms of their riders still mounted on top.

 

The smell of char, iron, and flesh rolled up the mountainside along with the ghostly howl of the wind that carried it. Shang felt the hot sting of bile rise from his stomach. He could not stop his jaw from falling open or will his eyes to close, as he took in with shock the scene below.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, the captain saw Chien-Po walking up the path below. As he heaved himself up the cliff, he cradled a familiar plumed helmet. In the soldier’s large hands it looked more like a small, broken bird than a symbol of military might and status.

 

“The ... general,” the large soldier said apologetically, gently handing over the General’s helmet to Shang.

 

Still in shock, the captain took the helmet, his forehead knitting in pain as the reality of what had happened set in.

The Huns had come and they had killed his father. His father, the General, with his years of experience and the best troops China had to offer, and still they were slaughtered like animals. The man, strong and powerful, who had always done his duty to protect the Li family and protect their country had fallen. His father was gone.

 

The realization ripped open his insides like a dagger, but the gods weren’t merciful enough to let anything spill out. Instead, the pain built up inside his soul.

 

Shang winced as he breathed in in the cold mountain air. He knew what his duty was. He walked away from his men, towards the cliff, and plunged his new sword  –the last gift his father had given him – into the ground.

 

 

 

Placing the helmet gently on the hilt, the young captain said the prayers asking the ancestors to welcome his father into the afterlife. He invoked his grandfather, his great grandfather and the Great Ancestor himself to help their son pass through the underworld and into the spirit kingdom. May his soul be judged as righteous and find itself welcomed to the afterlife, and may his spirit find its way safely to its home with the ancestors. All the while, Shang fought down cries threatening to escape his throat, and ignored the hot itch of tears in his eyes.

 

As his prayers drew to a close, Shang became aware of footsteps behind him.

 

“I'm sorry.” A small voice offered.

 

He had to know- the loss, the fear, what they were facing – how could he not? His father must have told him stories of the war growing up, of the excitement but also of the danger and the risks. Now, wasn’t the time to acknowledge that, though. They still had a job to do.

 

Shang stood up, and placed a hand on Ping’s shoulder. He appreciated the the boy’s gesture, but now wasn’t the time for mourning or for sympathies. There was nothing else between the Middle Kingdom and destruction: it was time to act.

 

Shang closed his eyes and breathed in, feeling the reassuring solidity of Xen’s saddle and the knowing stares of the hundreds of eyeballs around him. He knew what they had to do.

 

In a single motion, he mounted the horse and pulled back the reins. “The Huns are moving quickly. We'll make better time to the Imperial City through the Tung Shao pass. We're the only hope for the Emperor now.” He looked squarely at the troops before him.

  
“Move out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Apologies for posting late! I was on a business trip and didn't have as much time to edit/update as I thought I would!


	11. Terrain- Part 2

_If you know the enemy and know yourself, your victory will not stand in doubt; if you know Heaven and know Earth, you may make your victory complete._

**Chapter 11: Terrain – Part 2**

The skies remained grey and the air of the pass cold as the troops crested the highest part of the pass. Only the sound of footsteps interrupted the quiet whirr of the wind through the mountains around them.

There had been so many things he wanted to ask his father. He wanted to tell him about this campaign, to tell him how the troops had fared in training and ask what he would have done. He wanted to ask him about strategy. About how to manage junior officers. About what to do after coming home from war. About how to do all the things he had skipped over by being promoted straight to captain.

Moreover, there were the questions he never could ask him because there hadn't been the chance. To sit with a glass of baiju and talk about life. To ask advice on marriage as his wedding neared or about how to raise a son while waiting for his firstborn to arrive. To talk about his father's own childhood, and about the challenges he had to overcome – was that why he pushed his own children to succeed? Did he know how much they all wanted to impress him, even when he was gone for months at a time?

Most of all, he needed to know what to do now- what their orders were, how to face these men, what had gone wrong?

But there would never be a chance for any of those questions, any more advice or conversation. He was gone, slaughtered by Shan Yu. And it was Shang's job to stop him now what his father could not. To succeed where even his father had failed.

 

_Mulan Concept Art- Walt Disney Animation Studios_

 

* _CRACK_ * The sound of a cannon exploding pulled Shang back to earth as it flew up into the air.

He looked behind him to see a smoking hole in the artillery cart attached to Ping's horse. He huffed and rushed back to the boy.

"What happened?" he yelled, as the solder gaped sheepishly.

"Uuuuuuhhh," came the non-answer.

"You just gave away our position! Now we're –" An arrow interrupted the captain's tirade, throwing Shang from his horse and back into a pile of snow. He pushed himself back up and felt the arrowhead move within the leather padding where it had embedded. Shang yanked the arrow out of the leather padding.

Unfortunately, there were more their way. Many more.

A barrage of arrows filled the sky, descending on them like a flock of some and wooden birds of prey.

" Get out of range!" Shang hollered, as the men scattered, darting back in groups to the plains down-mountain.

As they made their way running down the pass, a cloud of incendiary arrows began to rain down on the troops from the opposite mountainside. Out of one ear, Shang heard the roar of fabric catching. Turning around, he saw the artillery cart bursting into flames as Ping's horse reared in horror.

"Save the cannons!" Shang shouted back to the troops that remained behind. He turned back around and kicked Xen's flank. Scanning the terrain below Shang searched for any position that would serve as a suitable position. Any place out of range for them to use for their attacks. He mentally checked through what the location needed: uphill of _something;_ far from the cliffs surrounding the pass; and, if the heavens decided somehow to smile upon him, an easy, safe path for retreat.

His eyes landed upon an outcrop, backing up on the edge of a cliff, uphill from the descending path of the pass. Best of all, there was a clearing separating the mountains surrounding the path and the plateau the cliff occupied. Two points out of three, and no time to find anything better: it would have to do.

Below, Ping and some of the other men carrying the remaining cannons rushed up the hill and across the field. *Boom*- the artillery cart exploded, throwing Ping from the horse and slamming several other men to the ground. Shang peered out, a hand keeping the snowy glare from his eyes.

The first of the men who had hung back to rescue the canons came huffing up the hill. The artillery was a gamble, but if they could knock out enough archers quickly enough, they could get to the Imperial City in time to sound the alarm and alert the defense. He ordered the men to get in position.

"Fire!" Shang bellowed as a line of canons flew into the mountainside. "Fire!" he screamed again. Again and again they shot canons until at last silence was the only sound echoing through the pass.

"Hold the last cannon," he held the men back as the smoke cleared ahead of them. . The dark clouds floated over the snow, growing thinner and thinner. In the center of the pass, however, the clouds did not vanish but seemed to condense. In its center a shadowy form began to solidify, then appear as the last whips of smoke were swept away.

Shan Yu.

Shang felt his feet take a step back and his eyes widen. An icy dagger of fear struck his heart as a hot surge of excitement swelled up from his gut. Behind the Hun leader, what must have been hundreds of men gathered on the icy mountainside. Shang swallowed and steeled himself for what had to be done.

"Prepare to fight," he called to his men and drawing his sword. "If we die, we die with honor." No sooner than Shang's sword fully unsheathed his sword did the Huns screech in terrifying unison, beginning their charge down the mountain.

Shang waited, holding the high ground as the wild warriors continued their stampede, their cries echoing off the sides of the valley in a deafening drone. He breathed in the cold icy air and felt his heart pound steadily in his chest with the rhythm of a steady drum. If the gods were kind, he had one shot to get the moment, the angle, the positioning, everything right; if not, he had minutes before he would see his father again.

" Yao. Aim the cannon at Shan Yu."

The stout soldier did as he was told, carefully repositioning the cannon against the rocks.

As they all waited with baited breath, Shang heard the scrape of steel against sheath as Ping shouldered Yao into the snow. He took the cannon and ran down the mountainside.

"Ping! Ping, come back," the captain heard himself yell. After the momentary shock wore off, he started after the boy, flinging his arms, yelling "Stop!" but it was no use: Ping made it to the next hilltop up the pass and planted the cannon firmly in the ground. Shang continued to sprint, eyeing the closing distance between himself and Ping and Ping and Shan Yu; he _had_ to get there first.

All of a sudden, Shang heard a soft "boom" as the cannon went off – and up into the sky. With the Hun leader barely a _bang_ \- length away, Ping missed. Shang followed the dark trail of the cannon as it arced into the sky. It then did the most natural and yet the most unexpected thing: it arced back down towards the mountainside, exploding against the soft snow of its peaks.

The explosion caused the snow to slough off the mountain's rocky face, triggering an avalanche. Shang stopped running and stood gaped-mouth, aware of the snow cascading down, aware of the deafening roar coming from the top of the pass, aware of the terrified screams of the Hun soldiers consumed by the snowfall, aware of the yell of Shan Yu as he lunged at Ping; but frozen in place in shock and sheer wonder at what he had just seen.

Still staring at the scene of destruction now rolling towards him, Shang felt a tug on his arm as Ping began to drag him in a run for their lives down the mountain. The roar of the oncoming snow grew more deafening and bone-shaking with each breath as each of the young men sprinted with all their might. Shang pulled ahead of Ping as the flood of snow closed in on him, but Ping pulled himself up onto his black warhorse, closing the gap again.

Ping reached down to the captain; Shang reached up to Ping's outstretched hand. No sooner than they locked grasps, though, Shang felt his legs torn out from under him by the avalanche. Desperate, Shang struggled to get above the snow, clawing and grasping to stay on top of it.

As the snow advanced and rolled, he was dragged into the cold mass, the icy weight pressing against his chest, squeezing out an air until it faded to black.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Baiju- traditional Chinese clear liquor, often distilled from grain
> 
> Also bear with me as I split up these next few chapters into parts over the next few weeks: I'm trying to keep each chapter more centered on what's going on now that it's getting into the chaotic section of the story! Also, I was ending up with 5,000+ word chapters in the original draft and I wanted to keep it to a more consistent, manageable length for each chapter. Unfortunately, (or maybe fortunately!) it'll take longer and have a few more installments than originally planned, so thank you all for your patience!  
> Again- a many hearty thanks to my glorious beta, Apophatically, and a happy and productive NaNoWriMo to everyone participating!
> 
> ~A


	12. Situations - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ping's plan has worked, but at what cost?

_ At first, then, exhibit the coyness of a maiden, until the enemy gives you an opening; afterwards emulate the rapidity of a running hare, and it will be too late for the enemy to oppose you _

 

**Chapter 12: Situations - Part 1**

  
  


Shang’s eyes eeked open. Billowing waves of white floated in front of his face, dancing and shifting like the Heavens had drifted down to this realm. Or like he was now part of Theirs.

 

As his awareness and will drifted back slowly, Shang took in his surroundings: a weight still pressed upon his chest, and he could feel the heaviness of his limbs below him. Above – or was it behind –him he heard voices shouting and groaning as the cloud in front of him grew smaller. His eyes strained to focus as he tried to make sense of it all:  the crevice below, the horse he rested on and the soldier next to him.

 

 

The memories of the battle, of the avalanche hit him as they crested the cliff and he saw the horse step onto the safe, packed snow. Ping saved him. Ping saved all of them.

 

“Step back, guys. Give him some air!” one of the men, maybe Ling, cried as Shang was lowered to the ground. 

 

His men. They were safe. _ HE _ was safe. Shang breathed in the clean mountain air, each breath returning him to his senses.  After a moment he turned to the figure kneeling beside him and panted. “ Ping, you are the craziest man I ever met. And for that, I owe you my life.” He placed a hand on Ping’s shoulder. “From now on, you have my trust.”

 

Maybe, this was one area where his father was wrong: maybe you  _ needed _ trust, and friendship and camaraderie on a battlefield – not just for the unit, but for the commanders too. Sure, friendships were a liability, but keeping everyone at a distance didn't save his father. The guilt of swelled in his throat, but was washed away quickly by the adrenaline and another round of cheers from the men. 

 

“You're King of the Mountain!” Yao croaked. 

 

Ping smiled and began to stand, but immediately cried out and grimaced. He fell right back into the snowbank, gasping and clutching his side. 

 

“Ping! What's wrong?” Shang asked, unable to keep the panic from his voice. Ping, still wincing in pain removed his hand from the dark patch growing at his side, his palms streaked with blood. 

 

“He's wounded! Get help!” Shang called back at the men gathered around him. He turned his attention back to the boy in front of him; he couldn’t lose Ping, not after all of this. “Ping, hold on,” he pleaded. The boy’s eyes were losing focus, and Shang resisted the temptation to shake Ping back to attention.

 

“Hold on.”

 

Ping’s eyes closed and Shang felt the boy’s body go limp. 

 

Shang laid Ping gently back in the snow and surveyed his remaining men: many were nowhere to be seen, but more than half of the regiment had survived the fight and the avalanche.  It was a miracle– the gods had surely smiled on Ping and their army. But now, Ping was in need of another sort of miracle from the Gods. 

  
  


They needed to get Ping help, regroup, and search for any surviving troops, in that order.

  
  


“Wei Ying” he yelled to the soldier closest to him. “Take that horse over there. Ride to the nearest town. Fifteen minutes down the mountainside. Bring a medic. Go. Now.”

 

“I need someone to set up a tent,” he said to the group. “Put Ping in it, raise his legs and cover him with a blanket.”

 

He then turned to Yao. “Find the strongest liquor you can- we’ll need it to clean the wound.”  

 

Standing up, Shang addressed the whole group again. “Does anyone here have any medical training?” They men solemnly shook their heads. The three soldiers closest to Ping looked at one another anxiously – Ling had turned a sickly nervous green– before they too hung their heads with a “no.”

 

“Very well.” He shook his head slightly. “The rest of you, search for survivors,” Shang yelled. “Be back here at dusk. Go.”

 

* * *

 

Within an hour, Wei Ying returned with a doctor from the next village downhill. The man, armed with a bag of pins and medicines, approached Shang only to ask where the patient was, and then disappeared beneath the flaps of the tent. 

 

While he tended to Ping, Shang distracted himself by continuing the to search the pass for survivors- either their own or the Huns’.

 

Ping had done his job with the avalanche- no Huns could be found alive above the fresh snowy ground. Unfortunately, none of Shang’s troops who had been left in the pass had survived either. Thankfully, when the men had all scattered, many had fled to the mountains themselves. As dusk creeped across the sky, Shang and the rest of the search party found group after group of their comrades who had hidden from the raging snow behind rocks, in caves, and who had managed to scale the cliffs above.

 

_ _

 

As the sun dipped below the mountain tops, the men went back to camp, where the soldiers who remained had made camp, setting up a fire to ward off the cold mountain air and scraping together a modest dinner with what supplies remained. 

 

Most of the men ate dinner downhill and set up watch as the doctor continued to work on Ping.  Up on the plateau, however, four of them couldn't stomach the thought of food. The remaining field officers sat outside of the tent, their faces tight with worry. Shang paced back and forth in front of the makeshift hospital as the sun sank lower behind the mountain range.  Finally the medic emerged from the tent, calling Shang towards him. 

 

* * *

 

He rushed over and bent over for the news.“ _ She _ – the doctor paused - will live.” 

 

Shang’s head flew back and his brow furrowed in confusion. He looked back at the medic; the man’s only answer was a nearly imperceptible jerk towards the tent. 

 

Still trying to make sense of what he just heard, Shang pulled back the corner of the tent flap and ducked into the tent. _“She… he can’t be serious_. Disbelief and confusion was still etched on his brow as the fact that the soldier would live sunk into the captain’s mind. Ping had saved them, and Ping would live. 

 

Ping, bleary-eyed and obviously in pain, struggled to sit up to greet his commanding officer.  But, as he sat up and offered a weak grimace, the blankets slipped down into his lap. Bandages wrapped the chest of the patient on the floor, protecting the wounds, but they also covered something … else. The layers of white linen could not mask the unmistakable curves below them. 

 

A wave of icy shock rolled over Shang as he realized doctor was right: Ping was not a man, or even a boy. 

 

Shang felt his insides knot themselves together as the rest of his body froze. Ping wasn’t his bravest man, or even a man at all, but a scared girl, a fact he had failed to notice, somehow, for weeks. 

 

His mind flashed back to the beginning of camp – Ping’s weakness, awkwardness, refusal to camp near the rest of the troops – this wasn’t just an odd boy, but how she kept up the deception.  And he had respected that – trusted that. Shang’s stomach turned over upon itself.

 

Realizing her secret was revealed, the girl clutched the blankets back to her chest. 

 

“I can explain!” she cried. 

 

Shang crossed his arms and looked away.  Honestly, he thought he was going to be sick if he had to hear any more, much less sort out the truth from the lies.

 

Chi Fu burst into the tent, piecing together Shang’s consternation and the girl’s terror. “So it's true!”

 

“Shang!” the girl cried as he stormed out of the tent. 

 

Shang’s jaw clenched at the sound of his name. After this, to assume that they were close enough…

 

Before he could react, though, Chi Fu yanked the figure, blanket and all, from the tent, dragging her into the cold spring evening. “I knew there was something wrong with you!” the shrill cry came beside him. “A woman! Treacherous snake!” the scribe spat, throwing the girl onto the ground. 

 

The other corporals gasped and their faces fell in obvious confusion. Shang looked back over his shoulder at the figure lying face down in the snow- this person he had respected. Despite everything– the lies, the danger she had brought on all of them– he couldn’t help but still feel pity for being on the receiving end of Chi Fu’s bile.

 

“My name is Mulan. I did it to save my father!” Ping- no, Mulan- said as she looked up towards her commander. The words settled in Shang’s stomach like rocks, threatening to knock him down to his knees. 

 

“High treason!”

  
  


Shang looked down on the person before him, the long black hair protecting her face as she knelt in the snow. 

 

Her black veil of hair turned to bronze before his eyes as Shang saw his father’s helmet, then head materialize before him, pleading. 

 

“I didn't mean for it to go this far!” Shang blinked his eyes as the woman- as Mulan- came back into focus before him. 

 

“Ultimate dishonor!” he heard the screeching cry. 

 

“It was the only way! Please, believe me!” He closed his eyes and tried not to, trying frantically to piece together everything that had happened over the past month. 

 

“Captain?” Chi Fu’s voice tugged Shang back to the icy field. His heart dropped as he realized what the counsel’s raised eyebrows meant. Not only had this person – Mulan– deceived him, but she had lied and disobeyed the Emperor himself. Even as she saved all of China from the Huns, she had betrayed them all - including herself. 

 

At any other time Shang would have found the irony amusing, but now the realization made the weight in his chest tug even more firmly on his insides.

 

He took a breath and resigned himself to his duty; he was an agent of the Emperor, and was tasked with carrying out the emperor’s laws. He strode over to the girl’s horse and took out her  –or rather, her father’s –  sword.  The black stallion reared up in protest.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shang saw the three non-commissioned officers lurch forward towards their friend.  Chi-Fu’s bark responded. “You know the law.”

 

Shang grasped even harder onto the hilt of the sword and strode forward to the woman huddled in the thick snow.

 

_ The bravery that had earned his trust- it was all a lie. _

 

The captain raised his blade above the disgraced soldier. Glancing down, though, he saw not the form of the young woman, but father’s head lying in the snow, separated from its body. He saw a mass of Hun soldiers sinking below waves of white. 

 

Shang closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to wipe that image clean from his mind. He breathed in, readying himself for the final blow. 

 

“I did it to save my father.” Minutes later the words still echoed within his head. She spared her father while he had failed to save his.  She saved his own life while he was about to impart the same death his father faced.

 

Shang brought the blade down swiftly, embedding it deep into the fresh snow. 

 

“A life for a life,” he muttered. “My debt is repaid.”

 

Even if it made him a traitor to do so, there were some things even more fundamental than the law.  Shang turned on his heel and barked out his orders.“Move out!”

  
  


“But you can't just …” the counsel sputtered and spat, his eyes round in shock. 

 

Shang seized the scrawny man’s collar. There was nothing left for the the scribe to say that would be worth his time. 

“I said,” he growled. “’Move out.’”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks so much for your patience, you guys! I was down with whatever bug's going around our area, but I'm back and I’m posting two chapters this week! Actually, I'm glad it worked out this way: they're two of my favorites, and I’m very excited to see them go up together as we officially round into the home stretch! 
> 
> A mighty thanks again to my beta, Apophatically. Thanks for the help and guidance here! 
> 
>  
> 
> Also- to my eagle- eyed movie watchers – I know I’m fudging the numbers of soldiers we see in these scenes: I know we see a smaller company in the movies, but, then again we don’t see many come on the trip in the first place even though there’s a large number at camp. Furthermore, China would be TOTALLY screwed if it lost everyone. Totally.   
> So that you know the numbers I'm working with in my head: I'm estimating that a couple hundred soldiers is a reasonable number to have in a unit at that time, and then to lose half is also reasonable given the incredible odds -and incredible save by Mulan - the group faced.


	13. Situations - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shang arrives in the Imperial City to face his reward - and the consequences- for what has happened

_Thus the skillful general conducts his army just as though he were leading a single man, willy-nilly, by the hand. It is the business of a general to be quiet and thus ensure secrecy; upright and just, and thus maintain order._

 

**Chapter 13: Situations - Part 2**

 Shang mindlessly rubbed his neck. He blankly stared out over the valley below, the gentle rocking back and forth in the saddle lulling him into a trance.

 

 

 

Before him, the morning light bathed the scene in a charming glow. At its heart, the sprawling arms of the capital, Chang'an, reached out from the city, its heart alive and pulsing with the bustle of carts and people and horses, no more than tiny moving specks as the troops made their way down from the mountain. Normally, the sight would be exciting, but today, all he cared about was that they would be within the walls of the Imperial City – and their journey would finally be over – before the sun hit its peak.

Glancing back up the road, he spied the triumphant soldiers: heads down, silent, shuffling their way towards a heroes' welcome. He pursed his lips and turned back around, their desolation too much to add to his own disappointment.

They _should_ be celebrating. He _should_ be basking triumphant in the glory of victory and in the honor of defeating China's greatest threat in a generation. His story should be one that would bring his family glory and honor for decades: _Captain Li Shang – the youngest captain in the Imperial Army – gallantly commanded the unit that singlehandedly took down the evil Shan Yu_. But over the past three days, so much of their victories so much of their triumph had been overshadowed by loss and betrayal.

The events of yesterday evening floated again to his imagination. The reason they were here at all – why he was alive at all – was because of Ping. Or, rather, because of Mulan.

Mulan.

_Fa Mulan._

Shang closed his eyes, hoping to shut out the vision he kept revisiting in his mind: a woman pleading in the cold night for her life after she had saved so many. Himself tasked to dispatch the emperor's justice. But what was justice, if it meant killing the person who saved one's life? What did it mean to uphold the laws of the Middle Kingdom, to punish those who disobeyed the mandate of the emperor if doing so meant disrespecting the most fundamental law of all – filial piety.

_A life for a life._

Yet, despite the tragic irony of the situation, Shang couldn't quiet the fires of frustration that twisted at his insides. In that battle she had saved him, all of his troops; yet in saving them she betrayed the very law they sought to uphold: the will of the emperor and the Middle Kingdom itself.

Unlike Chi Fu, he wasn't angry that she was a woman, or that she had broken the law, or even that she had deceived him. Well, not exactly.

Instead Shang couldn't banish the feeling that he had been had. It was she that had been the one person to gain his trust, to be the one who inspired the troops, who he- they all- literally trusted with their lives. In his pain, in the heat of battle, in the loneliness of command, Shang had let Ping get close to him. Shang had trusted Ping – and was a lie this whole time. A lie that he had never noticed.

But he couldn't help but hear a plea that tore at his own heart. _"I did it to save my father."_ The law that underwrote all that they did – family devotion. A wave of sorrow struck Shang.

He hung his head, wondering what his father would have done last night, or what he would say now. Even once he returned home to hold a funeral and make a place for his father in the family temple, he wouldn't get an answer. At best, the ancestors might guide him gently, but he wouldn't know if it was his father's voice, or that of the many generations of Li ancestors who had gone before. _Ancestors! If only he could go back…_

Shang's head snapped up.

He breathed in deeply, the fresh spring air washing through his nostrils. Breathing out, Li Shang admitted to himself what he couldn't piece together the other night on the mountaintop: he didn't know what his father would have done, but there was no turning back from his decision, nor from hers. No one could anyone undo what Fa Mulan had done to save all of them.

But if Shang had been put in the same position, he would have done the same thing

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Shang closed the door to the small barracks apartment. Like the rest of the city they had seen on the ride in, the army quarters seemed so much more foreign than they had a mere six weeks ago. The civilians sprinting through the markets, going on with their daily lives,  The faces lined with worry that relaxed and broke out into elated grins as they realized what their presence in the capitol meant. The palace figures who bustled around, welcoming back Chi Fu as if he himself had saved the emperor. It was all unfamiliar and uncomfortable, like wearing another man’s armor.

 

Not all of the strangeness, however, was unwelcome. Shang gently tested the cot, its softness a welcome change from the camp roll he had grown accustomed to. Lying down, he looked over to the other side of the room, spying a small desk with ink and paper, a small wardrobe, and a tapestry hanging on the wall. The mix of spartan functionality and comfort took him back to his days at the academy, his lessons with his father, and for the first time in more than a day, Shang smiled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Less than an hour later, Shang rustled out of un uneasy sleep to a tap on the open barracks door.

 

“Captain,” Chi Fu snarled as the captain opened the door. Shang glared over in acknowledgement of his call. “Tomorrow, after the banquet, you will report to a full meeting of the council for a debriefing. The Emperor has requested a brief on your mission by mid-afternoon. Oh, and His Excellency was very _interested_ in your stunt on the mountaintop.”

 

Shang repressed a groan with a noticeable grimace. The counsel returned the unpleasantries, but paused before turning away.

 

“Oh, and the carnival for _your_ victory will start after dusk. Meet for the parade by the imperial stables at sundown. We wouldn’t want China’s _heroes_ to disappoint the people.”

 

After Shang shut the door he let his exasperation out in a groan of rage. Nothing– _nothing–_ was pleasant with that man.  It took all the control Shang had left after the past three days not to punch or kick something –anything– placed in the sparse room. He took several calming breaths and settled down at the small desk in the corner.

 

At least, though, Chi Fu came to bear some smidgen of good news- if Shang was being asked to write an official report, the counselor’s word would not be the only record of what  had happened. Shang steeled himself to write– at the very least, a well-worded defense held the hope of exoneration among historians, if not before the Council.

 

Rubbing his eyes and cradling his forehead in his right hand, Shang set his brush to the paper.

 

 

 

 

 

> _Your Excellency, Son of Heaven and Father of the Middle Kingdom,_
> 
> _It is with great humility that I write Your Excellency to report on the conditions and circumstances surrounding the defeat of Shan Yu and the Hun forces._
> 
>  
> 
> _The training process was straightforward, with trainees gaining an acceptable proficiency in weapons, unarmed combat, archery and artillery for civilian recruits. After a month of training, we received a letter from General Li requesting aid from the front where the troops were stationed at the Tung Shao Pass._
> 
>  
> 
> _When we arrived, we found that the village of Bahouzhen, at the northern mouth of the Pass, had been razed to the ground. What appeared to be the entirety of General Li’s division were also found within city limits.  We found no survivors. Respects were paid to the remains of General Li._

 

Shang paused. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, rubbing his temples. The time for mourning would be soon, when he returned home; for now his duty was that of an officer, not a son. Shang picked put the brush again.

 

 

 

 

 

> _We continued through the Pass, expecting a rendezvous with the Hun forces. I divided my troops into three squadrons, sending two down and around the range to provide support during a direct confrontation. I remained with the main unit, along with artillery. After a canon fired from a cart pulled by Fa Mulan, who presented herself as a male soldier, alias “Fa Ping.” We were surrounded by enemy archers, firing from the mountainsides._
> 
> _After relocating outside of range, our troops launched a canon assault until we ran out of rockets. The Hun forces then reorganized into calvary formation, led by Shan Yu. Fa took the last remaining canon, against orders, charged towards Shan Yu, and_ _fired the cannon into the mountains._
> 
>  
> 
> _The canon triggered an avalanche, burying the Hun troops. Many of my men took cover behind rocks and boulders._
> 
>  
> 
> _After the snow settled, we regrouped and made camp down the Pass. We conducted a head count: my unit lost 50 men, in a company of of nearly 150, in an avalanche that destroyed thousands of the enemy’s troops. Most casualties were limited to cold exposure, which so far has improved in all of the men, and some bruising and other minor contact injuries. We then continued to Chang’an._
> 
> _From a strategic standpoint, the one critical mistake, Your Excellency, was a lack of intelligence on the Hun forces: the reports my father General Li received did not accurately reflect the number of Hun soldiers we saw in the mountains, which numbered well over 5,000 men. Although my father commanded a division of 800 of China’s best imperial cavalry men, officers and infantry, if they met the same troops we did in the Tung Shao Pass, which seems most likely, they would have been quickly overwhelmed._
> 
>  
> 
> _Now to address the case of Fa Mulan:_

 

Shang leaned back and reached behind his neck to comfort his sore shoulders. He let out a frustrated groan. _Where even to begin?_

 

_At the beginning._

 

 

 

 

 

> _Fa Mulan arrived at Wu Zhong camp with the conscription notice for Fa Zhou, known for his bravery and tactical daring during the Mongolian wars. Fa Mulan claimed the name Fa Ping, and presented herself as a young man during the training process and in the field. When Fa arrived at camp six weeks ago, she was mentally and physically unprepared for war, as were a majority of the troops. However, she completed he training process and was able to keep pace and even outperform many of the soldiers in my company._
> 
>  
> 
> _Fa arrived at camp fully armored and brought a trained warhorse, both of which,  presumably, were used by Fa Zhou during his military service. Our unit utilized the horse to haul artillery and supplies while on the move._
> 
>  
> 
> _In battle Fa disobeyed direct orders in battle on one occasion. However, the insubordination saved not only our company but likely the Imperial City; the diversion of artillery from exterminating Shan Yu to the triggering of an avalanche eliminated the Hun_ _threat._
> 
>  
> 
> _Fa demonstrated incredible bravery and sacrifice in the face of battle, going beyond the call of duty and risking her life in order to rescue her commanding officer in the avalanche. It is unlikely I would have survived otherwise._
> 
>  
> 
> _A medic discovered Fa was a woman during medical treatment for injuries sustained charging Shan Yu. She confirmed her given name upon discovery and claimed she disguised herself as a soldier in order to save her father’s life.  She was dismissed without ceremony and left with adequate supplies to make it to the nearest town._
> 
>  
> 
> _While His Excellency’s Counsel reminded me of my responsibility to uphold China’s laws on military service, I did not execute Fa Mulan. I judged at the time that it was more just to respect the humanness of Fa’s decision- a decision to honor her own father and his service to the Middle Kingdom. Furthermore, it did not seem just to execute the soldier who saved my own life._
> 
>  
> 
> _I did not intend to bring dishonor on His Excellency or His laws: only respect the virtues that form the fabric of the Middle Kingdom. I realize I may have judged wrongly, Your Excellency, and accept the just consequences of my actions._
> 
>  
> 
> _I also accept full responsibility as Fa’s commander for failure to recognize Fa’s false witness and for any ill-effects of her insubordination. At camp I didn’t notice that Fa was not what they appeared and I allowed a cadet who was not fully physically and mentally prepared onto the battlefield. It was a risk and a fault in judgement – although in retrospect, a fortuitous one._
> 
> _Furthermore, while Fa was insubordinate and provided false witness in name, presentation, and in impersonation of an imperial soldier, Fa also provided an example of many of the ideals of military service. Even given the short notice and lack of military intelligence, Fa Mulan was able to defeat the troops without the direct use of force, relying instead on the terrain and indirect weapons. She retained the moral high ground in battle and secured a decisive victory for the Middle Kingdom, with minimal loss of life to our troops._
> 
>  
> 
> _We would not have been able to defeat the Huns without the Fa’s actions.”_
> 
>  
> 
> _Reverently your servant,_
> 
> _Capt. Li Shang_
> 
>  

Shang’s hand hovered over the page for a moment, unsure if he had just signed his own promotion recommend or order for court martial.

 

 _Either way, I’ll be facing the emperor sooner or later,_ Shang sighed.

  
Making his way back to the cot, his mind bounced between emotions – resignation, grief, anger, frustration, relief, pride, dread – until sleep washed over him in exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Thank you again to my beta, Apophatically! 
> 
> The art I've found most recently and have been including in these latest updates has been the wonderful concept art from Alex Nino during his time working on the movie. Some really great stuff from him and the other animators working on the film back in the '90s. 
> 
> In reality, Shang probably would have had to report to his immediate superiors, rather than the Emperor himself, but given that a) this is a Disney Story, b) the remarkable circumstances surrounding the characters' whole situation and c) the necessity of getting the Emperor all that background info we see he has at the end of the movie, I ended up going this route!


	14. Attack by Fire – Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Still stuck in his thoughts, he heard Mulan give one last directive, this time to her fellow field officers to keep their eyes open.
> 
>  
> 
> The sound of the horse’s hooves faded into the din of drumbeats and chants around them. Shang shook his head, partially in disbelief, in part to clear his mind of his anger.
> 
>  
> 
> As they made their way closer and closer to the Imperial palace, Shang couldn’t banish the other question she had asked him: Why else would she come back? What else could she possibly gain by coming here?"

_Move not unless you see an advantage; use not your troops unless there is something to be gained; fight not unless the position is critical._

**Chapter 14: Attack by Fire – Part 1**

 

Shang woke up just as the orange glow of the sunset began to claw its way across the sky. Realizing how late it was, he jumped into action, his muscles punishing the captain for the abuse they suffered in the mountains as he threw on his uniform. His shoulder and legs still protesting his haste, Li Shang made his way down the hall, his hands clumsily knotting his cape around his neck as he hustled down to the stables.

 

 

In front of the assembly were the three remaining corporals - Yao, Ling, and Chien Po – their eyes downcast and faces drawn. Yao hardly managed a grunt of acknowledgement to his commanding officer. Meanwhile the rest of the men shuffled around, their muted smiles met with anxious glances toward the drummers, color guard, and the ceremonial dragon dancers mulling about the other side of the courtyard. Shang silently took his place in front of his soldiers.

 

A stout, mustachioed man with a tablet emerged from within the performers, and made his way over to the soldiers.

 

“Alright, men, I am Zhi Wei, your master of ceremonies for the evening,” the little man introduced himself. “It was your job to save this place, it’s mine to make sure this parade goes smoothly. They–“ he gestured over to the other side of the courtyard – “ already know what to do. Now it’s your turn.”

 

Zhi lifted up a page of notes, briefly looking over what was written on the sheet below. “Captain,” he gestured at Shang before waving his brush at the other men gathered around. “The counsel will take up the lead, followed by you and the other field officers. Then the ceremonial dragon, and the rest of the troops taking up the rear-“  pointing again at the group of performers.

 

Not bothering to wait for a response, the man rushed on. “When we get to the palace, Captain, you will present the sword to His Excellency the Emperor. He will say several words and declare the threat officially over. After that, Chi Fu will return to the direct service of the Emperor, and the festival will officially begin in the Imperial Square.”

 

The little man finally put the tablet back down, and looked at the group.

 

“Are there any questions?”

 

Shang looked back at the men behind him. The troops’ eyes were glazed over, and Shang honestly couldn’t blame them for it: the glory and honor the city was set to heap upon them felt like a sham after all they had been through.

 

“No.” Shang shook his head.

 

“Are we missing anyone?”

 

No one spoke, but Shang could hear the rustling behind him and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Keeping his gaze on the parade leader, Shang shook his head solemnly as he reminded himself that _she_ shouldn’t be here anyway.

 

“Alright, as soon as Chi Fu arrives, we leave.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Make way for the heroes of China!”- The drums beat steadily as they marched and the gentle bells of the dragon chimed with every step. Beside him, Chi Fu waved gleefully to the cheering crowds, but Shang could barely force himself to look straight ahead. The whole fracas was a farce, from the stupid smile on that counsel’s face - despite the fact that he had done nothing but frustrate the whole process- to the honors they were receiving at all, given the number of the Emperor’s laws both he and Mulan had broken in the past 72 hours.

 

“Make way for the heroes of China!”

 

 _"Heroes, yeah right_ ," Shang mumbled under his breath.

 

Behind him, Shang heard the distinctive huff of war steed and clop of horse hooves on pavement.

 

“Shang!” he heard a familiar voice call out his name. He turned around.

 

“Mulan?”

 

He blinked in surprise – unsure if he should trust his eyes. But when he opened them again, there she still was. Her eyes stared back at him, framed now by shoulder-length hair, still wearing her - _her father’s_ \- training uniform.  Shang’s heart glowed with the sound of the voice that he trusted, but his stomach turned as he remembered both her betrayal, and her reasons for it.  

 

It was her nerve and stupidity, though, that was the most infuriating. She was placing herself- both of them- in immense danger.

 

His jaw clenched as he saw Chi Fu out of the corner of his eye, waving back at the cheering crowds. If Mulan hadn’t been trying to get herself killed or both of them imprisoned before, she was doing a damn good job of doing so now.

 

“The Huns are alive!” She pressed on. “They're in the city!”

 

Shang turned his icy stare towards her. “You don't belong here, Mulan. Go home,” he snapped, nudging his horse forward.

 

Mulan pulled up again, her voice pleading. “Shang, I saw them in the mountains! You have to believe me!”

 

The hairs on the back of his neck bristled at the sound of his name and again at the young woman’s command. He didn’t _have_ to do anything for her - least of all _believe_ her. Not after what had happened. Not if she was going to throw away what _he_ had risked for her by coming here, now.

 

“Why should I?” he challenged. He could still feel the hot blood pulsing in his cheeks.

 

Mulan brought her horse around, cutting him off.  Taken aback, Shang stared ahead, only to see Mulan looking him straight in the face. Her eyes shone in the lantern light, meeting his demand with ferocity and candor.

 

“Why else would I come back?” she bit back. “You said you'd trust Ping. Why is Mulan any different?”

 

The words cut to his core like a steel blade. Shang set his jaw, unsure of how to answer. It was all he could do to guide his horse forward along the parade route.

 

 _Different? Ping was_ _trustworthy_ _, Ping was a man, Ping hadn’t spent weeks lying and risking the whole mission._ Shang could feel the heat rising now to his ears.  A very different kind of heat came to his cheeks however as he thought back to what he himself had written earlier this afternoon – _she lied, yes, but for a just reason. Not only that, but without her, they likely wouldn’t be alive at all. She was the craziest person he had met, and for that, he owed her - they all owed her - their lives. If that wasn’t trustworthy, what was?_

 

Still stuck in his thoughts, he heard Mulan give one last directive, this time to her fellow field officers to keep their eyes open.

 

The sound of the horse’s hooves faded into the din of drumbeats and chants around them. Shang shook his head, partially in disbelief, in part to clear his mind of his anger.

 

As they made their way closer and closer to the Imperial palace, Shang couldn’t banish the other question she had asked him: _Why else would she come back? What else could she possibly gain by coming here?_

 

Shang kept his eyes open and his ears alert as the steady beat of the drums came to a halt. All that interrupted the still silence of the square was the soft padding of feet on marble and the rhythmic jangling of the dragon’s bells behind him.

 

Giving his surroundings one last glance, Shang came before the Emperor, his insides a knot of anxiety, pride, shame, and sorrow.

 

Around him, though, no one seemed to notice. The crowd’s cheers combined with the steady beat of the drums into an all-consuming drone, like the roar of a tiger or the blast of a dragon.

The whole city fell silent as the Emperor raised his finger. Even the jingling of bells was muted as Shang took the gnarled sword from Chi Fu. Only the crash of a gong echoed throughout the plaza.

 

Shang looked down at the heavy blade in his hands as he walked toward the Son of Heaven. The metal was dark, as if it had consumed the blood of its enemies, and drunk on its reward turned the color of scabs and bruises itself. The image of his father’s face swam before Li Shang’s mind, and he breathed in, taking consolation in the fact that at least its campaign of bloodshed and death at the hands of Shan Yu were now over.

 

 

The young man was called out of his thoughts by the calm remarks of the Son of Heaven before him. “My Children! Heaven smiles down upon the Middle Kingdom!” The emperor began. “China will sleep safely tonight, thanks to our brave warriors!” The silence that had held the Imperial City broke as another wave of applause washed over the capital.

 

Li Shang stepped forward and bowed deeply, holding out the snarled steel in his hands. “Your Majesty, I present to you the sword of Shan Yu.”

 

“I know what this means to you, Captain Li,” the Emperor’s kind and gentle voice responded. “Your father would have been very proud.”

It was as if a knife tore through Shang’s chest straight down through his stomach. He swallowed hard and nodded in respect, forcing himself to look back into the Emperor’s face.

 

Out of the sky, a familiar screech grew louder. The captain looked up for its source, only to see a hawk with yellow eyes grab the sword from his hands and soar back into the sky. The bird circled the roof of the palace, when out of the darkness a gargoyle raised an outstretched arm, catching the weapon perfectly.

 

Shan Yu.

 

Screams erupted in the crowd below.

 

Shang reached for his sword as the jangle of bells punctuated the sounds of terror.  

 

Then, all chaos broke loose: he heard a large rip and more jangling behind him, along with a cacophony of deep-throated yells.  Before he could make sense of it all, the captain was thrown down onto the marble steps. Glancing up from the stone floor, Shang saw a crumpled red and gold hat – the crown of the Emperor – before him.

 

Shang looked up and saw two broad-shouldered Huns hauling closed the palace doors. “No!” he bellowed, following after them, barely reaching the top of the stairs before they dragged the palace doors shut.

 

He pounded desperately on the crimson wood, knowing in his heart the terrible truth: without intervention from the gods themselves, they were too late. He lay his forehead on the doors as his knees began to sink, but stopped – hearing the triumphant cackle of the Hun leader.

 

They couldn’t give up. Not yet.  He gathered his breath.

 

“You” Shang shouted, pointing to his remaining men. “Get this door down!”

 

The captain scanned the palace entry, looking for anything they could use as a weapon- his eyes resting on the lions guarding the doors.

 

“Chien Po! Yao! Ling! Wei Ying! All of you! Here!” he waved.

 

Together the men tipped over the metal statue.  “One, two three!” Shang counted off as they heaved the makeshift battering ram into the door again and again.

 

However, despite the heavy thud their efforts produced, the door would not budge.

 

Behind him, Shang heard a whistle followed by a well-known call.

 

“Hey guys! I've got an idea!”

 

The men came to a stop and Shang felt the lion fall deeper onto his hands as the field officers dropped their load to follow.

 

“Alright men!” Shang bellowed, his voice straining with the weight of the lion weighing on his hands. “New plan. Put this down!” he groaned along with the rest of the soldiers as they struggled to place the statue on the ground.

 

Hands on his knees, Shang took a few heaving breaths before turning back to the troops left behind. “Alright- everyone on my left-“ he pointed to half the group- “ secure the perimeter- we don’t want anyone else getting in, and we certainly don’t want the guys in there getting out. The rest of you–“ he nodded to the remaining men “find the palace guards. See if you can get in.”

 

“Understood?” Shang asked, backing away slowly.

 

“What are you doing, sir?” one of the men piped up.

 

“I have someone I need to help,” the captain hollered back, unable to keep the grin from his face. With that, he turned, jogging away into the night.

 

* * *

Shang wove in and out between the towering crimson columns, keeping his eyes out and ears open for a familiar profile or voice. After several minutes of searching, Shang saw four forms under the balcony of the women’s quarters.

 

Despite the circumstances, the young man stifled a smile as he drew up on them - Ling, Chien Po and Yao were all donning elaborate dresses,  wearing full faces of makeup, as they threw their sashes around the pillars beneath the balcony windows. If it hadn’t been for Yao’s beard, they could have passed for brides-to-be or some governor’s concubines.

 

His breath hitched in his chest, though, when his eyes fell on Mulan. The dress she wore – a fine but simple blue and pink ensemble looked truly stunning in the glow of the palace lanterns. She proudly wore on her a calm sort of confidence he had never seen with Ping – nor on any other woman.

 

Tentatively, Shang tapped the young woman on the shoulder as he whipped off his cape. Surprised, she met his bashful smile with a stare, but her gaze melted into the same kind of grin as she realized, without words, why he was there. Together, the team pulled back on their braces and ascended to the balcony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Many apologies for the late update. - some personal/family things- some good, some more stressful came up in the past few weeks and pushed me back a little bit. Not to worry- I FULLY intend on having this finished by the end of the year. Be patient though- the the next few (and last!) chapters have a little more retooling to do, and I may wait to update until I get the whole fic finished.
> 
> Also a many thanks to my sister @est1993 for beta-ing this in a pinch!!!! :-)


	15. Attack by Fire- Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a surprise attack by the Huns, the five soldiers plan a last-chance rescue mission of the Emperor. Of course, not everything goes smoothly.

_But a kingdom that has once been destroyed can never come again into being; nor can the dead ever be brought back to life._

**Chapter 15: Attack by Fire – Part 2**

 

One by one, the five soldiers tumbled over the balcony’s guardrails onto the sone floor. Their sashes and capes twisting about them, muffling the sound as they across the floor. Disentangling his crimson cape from his waist, Shang cast a wary eye to the hallway inside. Meanwhile, the rest of the team huddled together in a darkened corner a few paces away. The shadows inside the passageway remained still. Good. 

 

The young captain slunk back into the darkness to join the others. “So what’s the plan?” he whispered to Mulan as his fingers fastened his cloak around his neck again. 

 

“Didn’t have one,” she smirked.

 

Shang raised an eyebrow.

 

Mulan’s mouth widened into a familiar grin for a split second before the young woman could regain her determined expression.

 

“So, we need to get to the emperor before something bad happens.” Mulan looked each member of the group in the face as she thought out loud. Her brow furrowed, they could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as she put together the plan one piece at a time. “Right?” Her men responded with an affirmative nod.“At first, I was thinking we’d distract the Hun guards like this-“ she gestured to the corporals’ costumes. “I don’t think they’ll be expecting women – especially women who can throw a punch.” Her eyes flitted to the captain for a moment, the pair trading a nearly imperceptible nod. 

 

“We surprise them, use that advantage to get to Shan Yu, and get the emperor and get out of there.” 

 

Smiles creeped over Yao and Ling’s faces, but the men remained silent, their attention still fixed on their returned comrade. 

 

“Any questions?” 

 

 

The men crouched, but didn’t break their silence, meeting their new leader’s earnestness with their own resolve. Finally, Shang cleared his throat and broke the quiet “No, no – that sounds good.” The others echoed in a chorus of assent and affirmation. 

 

The captain gave a quick glance over the other men as they began to examine one another’s disguises; pulling up gauzy strips of silk and prodding each other’s painted faces to examine them in the dim lamplight. He turned back to the Mulan. “What do you need me to to do?” Shang gestured to their dresses and then towards his own uniform. “I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion.” 

 

The woman studied floor below for several seconds before her head snapped back up.“You, sir, are our secret weapon.” She grinned mischievously. “Can you handle Shan Yu by yourself?” He bowed his head solemnly, hiding his own smile. “It would be my honor.”

 

“Good… In that case…” Mulan paused, grabbing at the hair that floated above her shoulders. “In that case - guys! One more thing!” she hissed at the three other corporals, “We should focus on the distraction and the rescue; Shang will go in as soon as we take care of the guards.” She nodded back at the captain. “Chien Po – as soon as he’s in, you take the emperor and go, alright? And then once Shang takes care of Shan Yu, I’ll handle the escape and run cleanup.”

 

She shot a tentative glance at the captain before breathing in –

 

“That sounds good,” Shang cut in, his curt nod punctuating their leader’s rambling. 

 

“Really?” Her surprise broke through the serious mood that had hung over the balcony.

 

“Yeah” Shang nodded as his cheeks grew warm. “It’s the best one we’ve got. Plus,” he shrugged, “you’ve been right so far. Crazy, but right. Trust your instincts.” Shang reached a reassuring hand out to her shoulder but withdrew it quickly as if from a camp stove. The heat, however, seemed as if it came not from the soldier, but from his own core. 

 

The young man shifted his gaze immediately. He thought he spied a smirk from Yao, standing behind Mulan, but when he looked back up all he saw was the crew’s determined gazes.“Come on, let’s go. We’re ready,” he muttered to the group. “We don’t have much time left.”

 

Ling, crouching on his hands and knees, cracked open the door quietly and peered out around the corner. With a nod and a wave opened the door wider. The four “concubines” started to head off to the left.

 

“No!” Shang hissed, jerking his head sharply. “This way!” he mouthed with a wave of his hand. “Main balcony’s over here.” The others scurried back across the entry way, inching their way along the dark corridors. The light of lamps grew brighter as they snaked through the labyrinthine path, drawing closer to the main reception hall in the center of the palace. With every step, the muffled voices amplified and then echoed. At last, Mulan held out an arm as she poked her head around a corner and then back, quickly pulling back from the exposed position. It was time. 

 

 

“Guys,” Mulan motioned to the group hiding in the shadows. The men crouched down again, their whispers buried beneath the reverberating babel of a strange tongue across the hall. “We have the plan: distract, disable… rescue,” Mulan said, pointing to Yao and Ling, Shang and Chien Po in turn. “We go, you -“ pointing to Shang, “wait for the signal, then we stop Shan Yu before he does any more damage.”Closing her eyes, she breathed in a large, calming breath before opening her eyes again: this time full of fire and confidence. “Okay. Any questions?”

 

‘Does this dress make me look fat?” Yao frowned as he tugged at his red frock. Mulan yanked his fan out of his hand, giving him a swift bat on the head. “Ow!” he squawked. 

 

Shang rolled his eyes and crouched down in position, but failed to suppress a grin. With all that had happened in the past six weeks, some things, at least, remained constant. 

 

* * *

 

Shang looked down, carefully measuring the rise and fall of his chest as he waited for the signal. In. Out. In. Out. With every silent breath, he pressed his back even further into the shadowy corner. To his left, he could hear the tittering of Ling, Yao and Chien-Po, nearly three octaves higher than their usual drones. 

 

As the chattering grew quiet, Shang inched into the hall and pushed himself around the red pillar. As he looked, however, he saw the falcon the Hun leader carried. Groaning, he shoved his face in his hands and pulled back, his body tensing for the warning to sound.

 

But no screech came.

 

Instead, he heard a quick flurry of yells and thwacks and groan. At last, a cry of“Shang! Go!”echoed across the hall.

 

Sword in hand, Shang sprinted to the heavy red doors. With a smooth push, they flew open wide as Shang bounded up the stairs. At the top stood a thin figure clad in gold –a shimmering stick of silver hovering over his head. Gripping the hilt of the mangled blade was the demon himself: Shan Yu.

 

“…In pieces!” the monster yelled, bringing down the blade. Without thinking the captain lunged forward, his blade meeting the knurled steel mid-air. 

 

As his shoulder met plaster, Shang’s mind went blank for the first time in weeks. Giving himself over to a decade of training, pure energy flowed through the young man’s limbs, animating his actions delivering their blows as if on their own accord.

 

Seeing the mountainous figure at his feet, Shang lunged forward with his blade. The Hun grasped the man’s wrist. Shang felt himself go weightless as his body was flung sideways. Energy came back to his feet as Shang’s hands made contact with wood. Swinging around, his feet made contact with the dark figure ahead.The Hun flew across the balcony. Regaining balance, the captain dove on top of his opponent. 

 

Arms and legs punched up, down, left, right, as the men tumbled over and under one another. Shang felt his arms hit flesh, air, stone, flesh again with every grunt and roll. Heaving the monster’s weight around him as a weapon, the smaller man at last took hold of the giant’s arm. Reflexively, Shang twisted Shan Yu into a shoulder lock, pinning the giant into the ground. 

 

Just as he gained control of the Hun, Shang heard the footsteps of his comrades. 

 

“Chien-Po, get the Emperor!” he heard the woman’s voice. Shang glanced up to to see the large man apologize and bow before grabbing the Son of Heaven. He turned his attention back to his opponent. Shan Yu, meanwhile followed the blue giant with his sickly amber eyes. 

 

“No!” the monster beneath him bellowed. Before he could register what happened, Shang felt a sharp blow to his jaw, then another to his forehead as the balcony before him faded to black. 

 

* * *

 

A distant scream pierced through the darkness. Shang felt the cool smoothness of plaster beneath his cheek and a small hand on his shoulder as he reattached himself to reality. He opened his eyes to the spinning world around him, making out a pair of boots, and, thankfully, no golden robes. 

 

Pushing back against the ground, Shang drew himself to his knees. Inside, the young man’s insides gave a sickening twist, but Shang willed himself to focus on the figure before him- refusing to allow his face to betray his state. The captain held out an arm to protect the figure next to him as he drew his sword. He looked out in surprise as the dagger was kicked out of his hand. A fist met his jaw for a second time. Taking advantage of the young man’s confusion, Shan Yu grabbed Shang by the cape. His world finally stabilizing into focus, Shang stared squarely at the gnarled blade.

 

“You! You took away my victory!”Both men’s eyes widened as a shoe hit the Hun in the back of the head.

 

“No!” Mulan cried. “I Did.”Shang tried to concentrate, eyes wide, as she pulled back her hair. 

 

“The soldier from the mountain!” the large man gasped. Shang’s mouth gaped as he dropped back to the ground with a thud.Pushing away the shock, he tried again to steady himself. As he centered his vision, his gaze landed on Mulan, who threw her shoe back on with a wobble before jumping down into the hall. But before he could fully push himself back up, the young man heard the crunch of wood as the Hun tracked down his prey. 

 

Slowly, Shang drew himself up to a stable position. His head pounded with a dull ache and his stomach still sloshed within his core. Thankfully, his stability and vision were firmly back under his control.He stepped towards the steps, but paused - she wasn’t their mission; the Emperor was. 

 

Plus, while he had more or less regained his balance, Shang could still sense an unsteadiness in his limbs. The blow to the head was not severe, but it still smarted, and his senses were still clouded . In a fight like this, any impairment would be a liability i. 

 

Gently, Shang made his way over to the railing and leaned over the crimson barrier. Just off to the right, he could make out the figures of Ling and Yao could be seen consoling terrified crowds from the steps. Li Shang scrutinized the crowds below, searching for any sign of the bald giant or his charge. But Chien-Po wasn’t to be seen…

 

Shang stuck his chest out further over the balcony and leaned down,trying to and peer under the porticos. Suddenly, the captain grasped onto the railing as the rush of blood to his head triggered another wave of dizziness. His grip firm and vision steady, though, he anchored his foot in between the rails and continued to scan the walkways. Finally, in a darkened corner by the Great Library, Shang was able to make out a large blue blur.Dragging his body up slowly, Shang searched the rooftops for further signs of any Hun warriors. All of a sudden –

 

_*CRASH!*_

 

Shang whipped back up, as his forehead recoiled in another wave of pain. He froze and looked in the direction of the ruckus. Unable to see the noise’s source, he shook his head tenderly. He couldn’t worry about that right now. Their mission was to protect the Emperor, and the best way to do that would be to make sure the perimeter was secure – to reassemble his troops and reinforce the palace protections. 

 

Gingerly, Shang brought himself to a jog, uttering a small, breathless prayer as he made his way through the twisting red hallways. 

 

As he rounded the corner towards the entrance, Shang felt the floor beneath his feet shift. Skidding to a halt, he waited for a wave of nausea, but this time, it wasn’t his head. It was an explosion.

 

The young man broke into a full sprint down the stairs, skipping two, three, at a time. Before him, he could hear the gasps and shrieks of the crowd, but he didn’t dare look at rooftops they pointed towards. Halfway down the first flight, a second, deafening _BOOM!_ echoed through the plaza. 

 

Shang looked in the direction of the noise and saw the most magnificent and terrifying sight: what had to be the entire imperial stockpile of fireworks were going off simultaneously, filling the sky with countless bursts of colorful starlight. Beneath them, the solitary tower glowed a threatening but stunning orange.The vibrations of the thundering explosions settled in the bones and shook the whole body as the boom echoed through the courtyard. It was, in a word, breathtaking. 

 

His instincts catching up with him, Shang rushed to put as much room between him and the display as possible. After all, there would be no appreciating the beauty if this is how he met his end. 

 

As he pressed forth towards a second landing, a heavy weight slammed into him. Skidding to a stop, Shang looked next to him into the wide-eyed face of Mulan.

 

His mouth gaping, he sat up as the sword of Shan Yu clattered at his feet. 

 

Mulan’s own obvious shock hung over them for a second, although it felt like an era. At last, the hero broke out into a smile. She did it. She had won.

 

Relaxing for the first time in months, Li Shang returned a shy smile and and let out a long, grateful sigh. Only then did he realize that he had been holding his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello my dears! 
> 
> First off – thanks again for all of your patience with me here! Also- as promised before, I am updating with edits from earlier (sorry to all my followers: it's not a new chapter ––– yet!)
> 
> So that you know- I almost have the epilogue done, and all that’s really left to tackle is our next, last chapter. I want this story completed just as much – if not more!– than y’all do, so thank you for your patience as I crank this out!
> 
> So that you know I’ll be doing some more edits on this and having someone beta this chapter in the next few days, so expect another update and some minor changes on this chapter soon. (Sadly, I won’t be publishing the last chapter that quickly!) I just wanted to get something up as soon as possible.
> 
> As for the story, something I realized in doing research is that no one has grappled with the fact that Shang got a concussion from Shan Yu. Likely not a terrible one - or one that risks a brain bleed- given that he wakes up pretty quickly and is able to run minutes after he comes to. But still- our favorite Captain is dealing with a minor brain injury in the last section of the movie. Maybe his speechlessness and really terrible compliment skills can’t be chalked up entirely to being horribly awkward ;-} We’ll see. 
> 
> Happy New Year!  
> -Adelphia


	16. Intelligence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight is at last over, but in the midst of festivities, a new set of challenges presents itself to the young captain

 

_Thus, what enables the wise sovereign and the good general to strike and conquer, and achieve things beyond the reach of ordinary men, is foreknowledge. Now this foreknowledge cannot be elicited from spirits;it cannot be obtained inductively from experience, nor by any deductive calculation. Knowledge of the enemy's dispositions can only be obtained from other men_

 

**Chapter 16: Intelligence**

 

Smoke billowed out from the tower in thick black clouds, clinging to the rooftop of the palace. It cascaded down the palace walls, cloaking the crimson columns and golden statues in a dense robe of black. Not far behind, the scent of sulfur floated down to the ground. Above, the fireworks still glistened, their bright fingers painting the night sky above– and now the palace below – in a wash of color. 

 

The crackle of explosions continued to echo through the heart of the square, but they were now dwarfed by the cheers of the entire capital. Hoisting himself up to his feet, Shang took stock of the crowd below: lanterns and banners bobbed up and down on top of an ocean of bouncing heads and raised hands. They were alive.The palace was on fire, but they were alive. They had – _she –_ had defeated the Hun invaders, had saved the Emperor, and had survived. And they all of China had seen it. 

 

He caught Mulan’s widened eyes, seeing in them the same overwhelming mixture of shock and relief he felt pulsing through his veins. As she looked out upon the mass of people below, Shang felt a prick of unease poke at the back of his mind. Yet again he, all of thee people here – even the Son of Heaven – owed her their lives.Shang opened his mouth to speak, not quite knowing what to say –

 

“That was a deliberate attempt on my life!” a voice shrieked before the captain could make a sound. From within the darkness a figure emerged, his shrill voice cutting through the soupy rolls of blackness long before his body could. Chi Fu continued to yell as he descended to the platform.“Where is she? Now she's done it!”

 

Shang stepped forward, placing his body between the rabid consul and the woman, the warrior, the … the… _hero_ … who had saved them all. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other officers, who had come together to protect their comrade. Together they encircled Mulan from the skinny man’s tirade. 

  

“What a mess! Stand aside, that creature's not worth protecting” Chi Fu spat, his words dripping with distain. Shang felt his nails dig into his palms while his sore muscles prepared to throw another punch. He exhaled as much of his frustration as possible before daring to spit. “She's a hero!”Shang bit back.

 

Chi Fu scoffed, scorn dripping from his shrill voice “She's a woman.” Shang gaped. _To continue to underestimate her now, after everything_ – “She'll never be worth anything!” 

 

Shang’s resolve to contain his anger broke. He grabbed the skinny, arrogant bilgesack by the collar, making sure that consul could hear _every_ word he was going to say.“Listen, you pompous …”

 

“That is enough!” The rebuke resounded in Shang’s ears like a canon; he turned immediately towards the source of the noise.Clad in flowing golden silk, the Emperor descended from the black clouds above, radiating the exact same calm and strength as he had an hour ago, as if the events of the past hour were no more distressing than a delayed carriage change. The young captain’s muscles slackened as he released his hold on the consul’s collar.A sickening feeling of shame burned in Shang’s belly and his eyes widened in shock.

 

 

Unlike the ruler, Shang was unable to fight back his own panic any longer.“Your Majesty, I can explain!” He rushed up to the Emperor. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, he could hear his older sister’s gasp of horror at the complete breach of protocol and disrespect: making demands of the emperor – for a lawbreaker – in public – as the palace itself stood smoking.But for that suspended moment in time, Shang was past the point of caring: Son of Heaven be damned he _had_ to understand. He had to. 

 

That moment came to an abrupt with one gesture as the Emperor raised a hand in objection. Shang remembered where he was– and with whom he was talking – and withdrew, eyes lowered again in deference. The other men followed suit, pulling back gently like petals from a bud, leaving Mulan lone, exposed, before the Son of Heaven himself. 

 

The old man remained all but motionless as the crowds around them as he spoke to the young woman. “I've heard a great deal about you, Fa Mulan. You stole your father's armor, ran away from home, impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer–”Shang felt the hairs on his neck prick up at attention: the Emperor _had_ read his report. “–dishonored the Chinese Army, destroyed my palace!”Frozen in place, the young man felt his anxiety build as the Emperor gestured broadly at the smoking mass. “And! –” Shang winced, waiting for the final denunciation. 

 

“– You have saved us all.” Gone was the harshness and righteous judgement of the Emperor’s voice. In its place, a soft smile and a warm gaze toyed at the corners of the gentleman’s wizened eyes. His mouth slackened in disbelief, Shang could only look on as the old man dipped his head lower and lower towards his chest. Shang looked towards Ling, whose made up face quite visibly reflected his own confusion.

 

Before he could fully realize what was happening, a swell of pride rose in Shang’s chest and then to his face, which broke out in a gentle grin.He stood first at attention, then bowed, then lowered himself to prostrate on the stone platform of the Grand Staircase.A wave of whispers rustled behind them as the whole nation fell to their knees. 

 

At last, the Emperor broke the reverent silence and rose back up. “Chi Fu!” he called back to the figure behind him. 

 

The men all rose pulled themselves up to their feet as the skinny man managed swooped forward.“Your Excellency?” the man asked. 

 

“See that this woman is made a member of my council.”The Emperor continued calmly as his aide’s brush began to move. 

 

Chi Fu nodded along as he took the notes for a moment, until the realization dawned upon him. His mouth fell open and eyes poked out as he shook his head furiously. “What?” the counsel cried. Shang had to admit to himself that he was nearly as shocked himself.Picking up his slackened jaw, Chi Fu continued with his objection. “ There are no council positions open, your Majesty!” 

 

“Very well,” The Son of Heaven shrugged imperceptibly. “You can have his job,” The Emperor raised a hand towards the now-gaping Chi Fu. 

 

A few half hearted squeaks left the counsel’s lips as he fell to the floor. Shang couldn’t help but smile to himself – both out of pride in Mulan, and with the added enjoyment of Chi Fu’s distress from the whole situation.

 

“With all due respect, your Excellency,” Mulan responded, “I think I've been away from home long enough.”

 

The Emperor shrugged and nodded as his hands reached for his neck. 

 

“Then take this,” he placed the large golden pendant in her hands “so your family will know what you have done for me.” 

 

Shang’s eyebrows reached up his still-aching forehead. This was unprecedented. The crest of the Emperor was reserved solely for the Royal Family. To even touch it was a punishable offense for all but the closest members and servants in the Royal Household. The young man’s eyes flitted towards Chi Fu, maybe the only other person on the platform who could understand how exceptional this was. The man looked sick. 

 

The Emperor, however, was not done. He lifted up the twisted blade at his side. “And this,” the Emperor continued, handing the young woman Shan Yu’s sword, “so the world will know what you have done for China.”

 

The whole of the Middle Kingdom stood for several seconds, as their hero examined the crooked steel in her hands. Shang reeled back slightly, however as Mulan then lunged at the old man.As she embraced the Emperor, the Son of Heaven recoiled first in shock, but then, smiled. 

  

“Is she allowed to do that?” a hoarse voice muttered behind him. Shang shrugged. Frankly, at this point, she could probably do anything, he couldn’t help but think.

 

After several seconds, Mulan broke the embrace, and turned back towards her comrades. Immediately, her other field officers rushed up to congratulate her. Chien Po’s giant hug lifted them all off the ground. Shang started to make his way forward, but an invisible force tugged at his core, freezing his muscles in place. He longed to join in the celebration and relief of the other, yet the young man was held back by the impropriety of the situation – he was still their commanding officer, after all – and something _else_ anchoring everything in him that yearned to reach out. 

 

Still fighting against his paralyzed insides, Shang could only watch as Mulan stepped away from the gang and came closer. The anxiety pulsing through his veins, the captain’s mind tied to search for words, but his senses were still failing him.

 

His mind lagging behind the will of his body, Shang opened his mouth to speak. “Um ... you ... You fight good,”Shang heard himself mutter lamely. 

 

“Oh,” Mulan’s mouth twitched downward. She glanced toward the ground. “Thank you.” 

 

Shang reached out, trying to rectify the situation, to think of something – anything – better, but it was too late. Mulan turned around, speaking now to her warhorse. “Khan,” she sighed, mounting the beast, “Let's go home.”

 

With that, the Hero of China flew away, down the center steps of the Imperial Palace, into the night itself. 

 

Shang watched as her figure was swallowed first by the crowd, then by the dark, all the while cursing his core – or his pounding head, he couldn’t decide – for his inability to speak. As he continued to follow the ghost of her shadow, the captain’s insides began to ache with a strange sense of longing he hand never felt before. Shang winced with the pain. 

 

Out of the lamplight of the palace, the Emperor stepped forward. Shang straightened as the elderly man cleared his throat to speak. “The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.”

 

“... Sir? …” Shang meekly asked, unfamiliar with the proverb, never mind its deeper meaning. 

 

The Emperor turned towards the young man, his face sincere but serious. “You don't meet a girl like that every dynasty!” The Son of Heaven quipped with a jerk of his hand. Having made his point quite clear, the Emperor set his hat squarely upon his royal head and walked off.

 

Shang turned back out to the crowd. Like a lamp lit in a darkened room, the Emperor’s words had shone light upon what had transgressed in the past three days – and what it had come to mean. _The flower that blooms in adversity…_ He turned his head back towards the sky to watch the blossoming lights fill the sky, and his heart begin to bloom with fire again. Only this time, time instead of the burning weight of fear and frustration, it was the spark of something Shang hadn’t felt in weeks: hope.

 

 

* * *

 

 

" _You don't meet a girl like that every dynasty_ ” the words echoed in his head hours later as he scanned the heads and hats of the thousands of minor nobility and bureaucrats now swarming in the halls of the Imperial Compound. Somewhere within the masses, Shang found himself hoping to see one blue hat in particular. 

 

Despite their mutual distaste, Shang needed to find Chi Fu if he had any hope of seeing Mulan again in the near future. Shang needed to find her now: before he had to return home, before he had to mourn his father for weeks on end. Unfortunately, the captain wasn’t responsible for his troops’ conscriptions: the administrators were. Shang craned his neck, looking again for any sign of the scrawny figure. 

 

“Oh Captain, my Captain!” a raspy voice called out beside him. Shang immediately turned to look for the speaker but found his three field officers. Before he could say anything, though, a glass of baiju was thrust into – and onto – his hand. Shang shook off the wet rice liquor.

 

“To the heroes of China!!!” Yao bellowed, slapping the much taller man on the back. Shang couldn’t help but grin. Before he could raise the glass, Ling chipped in. 

 

“To China!” Ling cried. 

 

“To China!!!” the men echoed. 

 

“To China” Shang muttered, his eyes returning to their survey of the crowds as they drank the burning liquor. 

 

A comfortable silence settled between the four comrades as the alcohol brightened their insides. In the square below, the whole of China rejoiced: men and women, commoners, merchants and soldiers, and, from the looks of it, a good deal of the nobility. Crowded together in the light of the lanterns, the masses feasted and danced to the beat of drums and bells. As the liquor coursed through his veins, the pride and happiness he felt watching the celebrations rose to the surface, and, just as suddenly, were displaced. In their place, the hard pit of loneliness solidified as each smiling face brought to mind that of a former classmate or comrade whose now-cold body still remained in the Tung Shao pass: Wen Gang, Guo Jing, Hyung Li. 

 

That sense of longing only intensified when Shang’s mind rested on the one still-living soldier he wished was by his side: Mulan. 

 

Shang shook his head, still wincing at the memory of their last interaction."I am such a idiot," he found himself murmuring aloud.

 

"What was that, sir?" Chien-Po asked.

 

“Oh - I can’t believe its it's such... a royal image, isn't it?" Shang fumbled, snapping out of his thoughts "Very, uh... enchanting... the sky... uhh... all like that..." he said, gesturing vaguely towards the west.

 

"It's lovely..." Yao sighed wistfully, a soft glimmer lingering in his eyes.

 

All three men looked down at him, puzzled by Yao’s sudden lack of bravado.

 

"Whaaat? I like lanterns!” Seeing the arched eyebrows in front of him, he shook his head, “ See-they look like little floating stars." The others exchanged a confused shrug.

 

After several unsure seconds, Shang cleared his throat and began to back up. “Well, great job men. Enjoy the celebration.” He gave an awkward tip of his empty cup. “I’ll, uh, see you after leave, I expect.” 

 

“So soon? But the party’s just * hic* started!!!” Ling whined. Shang took another careful step back. 

 

“Sir-“ a quiet voice entreated, following after his leader. Shang stopped. 

 

“Yes, Chien Po?” 

 

“She left this…” The large man pushed a shiny metal dome into his superior’s hand. “… in the chambers. I thought you might know what to do.”

 

“Umm… Shang felt his cheeks burn as he replied limply, “… thanks…” Taking a breath, he let a smile creep to his lips as his wits returned. Shang gave a slight bow of his head. “Thank you, Chien Po.”

 

“My honor, Captain.” 

 

Shang nodded and looked down at the metal dome now in his hands. Staring back at him was his own image, stretched and twisted by the curve of the helmet. Despite himself, the young man winced as he was brought back immediately to the last time he saw his reflection in polished metal. Despite trying to bar the memory of the person he missed most from his thoughts tonight, the captain couldn’t help but blink out the hot tears from his eyes. Shang shook his head and ignored the dagger twisting his heart in favor of the other, anxious but warm sensation tumbling around his insides. 

 

Then, a glorious realization dawned upon him. All the men called for service in the campaign came from villages in the same province. Could he be so lucky?… Shang’s gaze snapped up. “Chien Po- were you from her village?” Shang asked, trying to keep his voice even. 

 

“No sir. I was the only one from my village to get a conscription notice,” the large man trailed off. Shang’s heart sunk… “We’ve got a lot of merchants and monks, but my family is the only resident family listed in the village records.”

 

… The records! His eyes widened and it took every bit of strength in him not to spring forth.

“Thank you.” Shang gave the gentle giant a quick pat on the shoulder.“I… I have to run.” He waved a hand over towards Ling and Yao, who returned eye contact over the heads of the young bureaucrats’ daughters with whom they were now talking. “It’s been an honor…” Shang stalled as he turned and ran towards the barracks. 

 

Out of sight of his comrades, Shang burst into a run, his sore muscles both welcoming and groaning with the sudden movement. He dodged in and out between groups of revelers, slowing his pace just enough to avoid apologies or explanations. At the other end of the portico, Shang came to a halt. 

 

Looking over his shoulders, he jiggled the latch to the library until it clicked, the heavy crimson door swinging back under its own weight. The earthy smells of paper, velum and wood enveloped him as Shang stepped in, carefully shutting the door behind him. 

 

“Ancestors,” he muttered aloud. His fingers traced over the ends of scroll after scroll, carefully filed into their proper boxes. _Ancestors…_ Shang felt a prickle of guilt rise along his spine. … _Father_ … If anything he should be rushing home, not snooping around piles of parchment. 

 

He turned his eyes towards the records that were not yet categorized, set out in piles on top of a series of tables. Then, in the blue light of the moon, Shang spied a scroll that looked paler than the rest. His hand shaking, he unraveled the document. 

 

_Conscription notice for the defense of the Middle Kingdom_

_A notice to all men within the Shaanxi District_

 

His head felt light with the speed of his heartbeat. His eyes, though, dutifully scannedthe long list of names. Wei, Chan, Li, Jin… his eyes darted over the list of characters, when at last they fell upon the one he was looking for: Fa. His eyes darted to the right– _Chunhua_. Easily a two days’ ride. 

 

 

* * *

 

*** _A Day and a Half Later_ *** 

 

 

Shang crested the hill and saw the sprawl of buildings clustered together in the valley below. An anxious tickle rose in his belly again. Maybe this _was_ a terrible idea. He _should_ have gone straight home to mourn, right? Though then again, it _was_ a direct order from the Emperor himself, no? 

 

In any event, right or wrong, he was here now. Reaching the edge of the village, Shang dismounted, aware of the eyes upon him and his quite conspicuous uniform. He cursed himself for not bringing a change of outerwear with him from the barracks. 

 

He approached a greens merchant, his cart piled high with plums and berries. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the Fa residence,” the young man entreated. Shang’s eyebrows raised at the tsk from the two middle-aged women next to him, and felt his shoulders tense as the man behind the cart gave him a slow, questioning look. After another second of consideration, however, the merchant spoke, his voice neutral. 

 

“Take the main road east two li,” the grocer pointed to the north. “Take a left at the citrus grove, go another li or so up the hills, and it’ll be on your left. Large estate. Can’t miss it.” 

 

The captain gave a small bow. “Thank you, sir.”

 

Mounting his horse again as he left the town, Shang followed the man’s directions. Climbing the second hill, overlooking the river that ran through the town, the young man came across a small villa: : simple, yet comfortable, and reminding him of his own home, in a way. The front gate was open, swaying in the breeze. Shang dismounted and cautiously approached the gates.

 

“Hello?” he asked.

 

No answer. He pushed the wooden door open and glanced around the courtyard, his stomach climbing higher in his chest. Across the courtyard, Shang saw two women – one elderly,one around his mother’s age – chatting with one another in the middle of the moon gate. Shaking his head, he clutched the helmet, took a deep breath, and made his way towards the garden door. 

 

 

The few strides it took him were not enough to calm his nerves, and for a moment the only thing he could hear was his own rushing heartbeat. Sleep deprived and coursing with adrenaline, Shang found himself unable to stop himself from interrupting the two women. 

 

He cleared his throat. 

 

“Excuse me, does Fa Mulan live here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and encouragement with me while I wrapped up this chapter! I've been caught in the midst of a LOT of moving and a LOT of travel, but I'm back in one place and thought I'd make it up with a final chapter that's twice as long as usual! 
> 
> Over the next few weeks I'll be tweaking a few of the chapters into their final forms and piecing together the grand finale- the epilogue! 
> 
> Thank you again for your patience!!


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